


the flowers fall apart (all at once)

by lunariaans



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Angst, Eventual Romance, F/M, i started shipping this on accident, someone who is a better writer please write more hanbaki, sorta?, there isnt enough of them, theyre probably ooc especially tsubaki im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-04 03:47:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6640126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunariaans/pseuds/lunariaans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>to the samurai, the red tsubaki flower is bad luck, for the petals fall off all at once. to anyone else it represents love, excellence, and perfection. he has to wonder, what does she see?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the words bite (but you like it like that)

**Author's Note:**

> I am just so into this pairing I could not help myself. I feel like I may have f'up the characters though (especially Tsubaki rip) but please enjoy because I am already writing the next chapter.

He knows she's mad even before he walks through the door. 

"You're late" she states flatly, not bothering to look up at him as he walks into the practice room. She shuffles around, her back to him, and idly pretends to be organizing weapons and boxes. Her long and curly brown hair tumbles gently over her back, swishing and swaying as she moves about. It looks soft, so soft and he wonders if it feels as nice as it looks.

He frowns. What awful thoughts.

She turns to face him yet she refuses to meet his eyes. She takes two practice swords, one in each hand, and walks past him without even sparing a glance. She places them gently on the rack with the rest and then heads back across the room for more.

"Sorry," he says simply; he leans against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. He knows he is not late but she had just expected him to be there earlier. He doesn't feel the desire to argue with her; instead he pushes his feet away from him and continues to watch the girl feign labor. It's frightening, in a way, and confusing; what was she feeling, in that exact moment, that made her feel the need to fake being busy?

"Sorry doesn't make up for the lost training time," she replies, her feet still moving from one end of the room to the other with swords in her hands every other time.

"You seemed to keep yourself entertained in my absence," he says back with a bite in his voice. She always had a way of ticking him off. "Now that I'm here, why don't we start?"

She laughs, a short and cold laugh and it leaves him bitter as she passes by him again. Her beautiful face is contorted into one of disdain; her eyebrows are pulled together in disbelief and her nose is scrunched up while her mouth hangs open in a mock smile. He sighs at her expression; so much dislike for him and he felt as if he's done nothing wrong.

"We should've started half an hour ago; it's when we normally do." An edge of that same bitterness that possesses him creeps into her voice as well. Things were so different now yet everything was the exact same. He sighs again.

"Hana," the name rolls smoothly off his tongue, leaving a sweet taste on his lips as it tumbles past them.

She whirls around at her name and fixes a glare on him, a burning light brightly taking place within them. Her brown eyes are the most normal and plain looking he's ever seen yet they always make his stomach flop when they look to him; peasant eyes, some nobleman had called them once (to which he received a rightful beating from the "peasant" herself). To any other man, the look would've well run them off by now, but he's used to her angry glares and he silently thanks the gods that her stare is set on him. She waits for him to speak.

"If we miss thirty minutes of hours long training, it's not the end of the world," he states coolly as he pushes himself from the wall to walk to the center of the room. She has two more swords in her hands as she walks past once again.

"Some of us need the training, Mister _Perfect_ ; some of us actually want to improve ever more. How can we fulfill our duties as retainers to Lady Sakura if we haven't sufficiently trained?" She places the two swords onto the rack next to the countless others.

He frowns again at her words. She was always worried about missing training. "Although I can't disagree to being perfect, I have to say that I think we are very well trained and that those thirty minutes will not be the deciding factor on whether or not we are suitable for work under Lady Sakura." He pauses to take a breath. "I wasn't even late. We don't have a scheduled time to train."

She huffs, her breath blowing a stray piece of hair away from her face. "You're insufferable, unbelievable." She makes her way past him with more swords. "Even if there isn't a set time, you should know when to show up. This is the time we always train together."

"We're wasting even more time talking about the time we've wasted," he tells her to which she stops for a second and he fears for that second that she will run him through with the swords she's holding; she doesn't, she keeps on walking and he breathes once again.

"If you're so worried about missing training, why don't you just find someone who will show up on time?" His words come out harsher than he intends, his annoyance leaking through them and he immediately regrets them, wishing he could push them back into his mouth.

She stops at the rack and her expression softens as she places the last two swords on it. She lightly runs her hand over the hilt of one and he watches her and notices the way her mouth twitches ever so slightly. She's hurt.

Once again, she refuses to look at him, her back faces him instead and she tilts her head to the side looking at the opposing wall as if it's the most interesting thing in the room and maybe, to her it is.

She is the toughest, most headstrong, fiercest girl he knows. Her voice is soft when she speaks again and it's startling to him; it's so unlike her, what has he done?

"I train with the person that knows me best," she says quietly, dropping her hands to her sides. "You know all my strengths and weaknesses; you know what I need to work on and how make me better. _You_ know me best."

He is shocked into silence at the truth she has told him. He isn't sure what to think; should he be flattered, touched? Mainly he feels disgusted; with her, with himself, with everything else in the world. He thinks about ripping his heart out after this conversation is over but then again, she's already done that for him.

"It's always you by my side in battle; you know me best." She repeats. He catches her eye and his heart skips a beat.

After a minute of the silence and awkward shuffling, she deems it is her time to go. "Whatever," she says and her face hardens again. "I don't feel like training anymore."

She tries storming out but his idiotic brain won't allow it. He stupidly, impulsively, catches her wrist as she passes, and he clings to her tiny wrist as if she's the only thing that can save him. He stops himself before he can try to hold her hand instead of her wrist; he wants to bring it up to his face, to have her caress it and feel the warmth from her fingertips against his cheek; he wants to lean into her hand and he wants her to smile, that soft and sweet smile that so rarely appears whenever he's around. He wants to do something _so_ stupid but he doesn't because he knows better and instead he tries to speak.

"Hana, I-" His voice comes out as a whisper instead of the strong one he wants to convey and he silently curses her for that; it was all her fault. She made him this way and he hated it. 

She rips herself from his grip and she throws him the worst look he's _ever_ received from her. It's one of pure disgust and pure anger, and he feels his heart drop and the color drain from his face. He hates himself; he's stupid, so stupid, and it just proves he's not perfect after all.

"I said I'm done," she says, her voice tight, and she leaves him alone in the room.

He's upset, mainly with himself, and he contemplates pushing over the sword rack. He thinks better of it, not wanting to ruin the hard work, and he leaves too, ready to rip his heart out a second time.

 

* * *

 

 

He shows up two hours early to the practice room the next day.

He feels like he owes her an apology, though he cannot give her one even if he really tried. She calls him Mister Perfect and deep down he knows he really is not. He is stubborn and so is she, and he smiles a sad smile as he thinks of an old Hoshidan tale; two warriors who are too stubborn for their own good, they meet as enemies on the battlefield and end up meeting their end too soon because of that stubbornness. It is so very much like them that it makes him wonder, with some fear and apprehension, if that will be them too.

The first hour is spent alone; he grabs a practice sword from the rack and sits on a crate, staring at the weapon on his lap. He was never really good with a sword, a traditional sky knight preferred a lance or naginata, but he always seemed to take one back up. It was always her that made him do it; he never won spars against her when he battled with a sword but he did it anyways, because she asked him to and deep down he couldn't refuse.

He sits and waits and idly taps the practice sword on the side of his crate with one hand and leans his head in the other. He imagines what she'll say when she walks in and sees that he is the early one today. First a look of surprise will cross her face, only for a second, then a look of contempt then false anger. She'll be "angry", as per usual, because he did something she had not expected, and she hates the unexpected. He can imagine the argument that will follow; she gets upset and talks about how he's perfect, he'll agree then tease her and she'll only get more upset. It's a satisfying routine that never ceases to amaze him, and that makes him think there's something wrong with him. He enjoys the fights.

He also enjoys their sparring, their physical fights. When they fight a fair fight, he with his lance and she with her sword, she's stunning. She is quick and lithe, leaving no room for mistakes (although she favors her left side, leaving her right wide open) and he is entranced; he is surprised he can ever keep fighting when he's facing a beauty like that. She is elegant and regal, that distant relation to the royal family definitely shining through. She gives everything she has got, and so does he, until they are both pushed to the point of exhaustion, lying on the floor and breathing hard through the sweat and aching muscles.

He sighs and stands back up to place the sword back on the rack.

The second hour is spent not so alone. A few people come and go, picking up and dropping off weapons and armor, and they all give him questioning looks and inquisitive stares, to which he just smiles sweetly, and they leave him be.

He paces back and forth with a lance in his hands this time. He swings it around absently, occasionally thrusting it forward and stepping back. He wishes she would just show up already, he's surprised she hasn't, so he can just get past the awkwardness that was sure to follow from yesterday's fight. He makes sure to stop twirling around his lance when more people come in and he just awkwardly stands there, like a child caught doing something bad.

By his third hour of waiting, an hour after she was supposed to arrive, he gets up and leaves the practice room. He's bored and angry and he feels like she's done this on purpose.

He walks out into the hall but doesn't get far when he sees a girl with a ponytail in a pink tunic and Hinata, a boy he does not like so much. The girl laughs at what Hinata says, to which the boy responds with a charming smile, and he can only wonder who this girl is and why she would be completely into that sloth of a boy. Her laughter rings out, like tiny tinkering bells, and he is strangely enamored by the sweet sound.

When she turns around he immediately stops walking; he's frozen in his spot. He had not recognized her with her hair pulled back, she never pulled it back. His blood boiled and his heart involuntary skipped a beat as brown eyes met his.

Her smile fades from her face as she catches sight of him and he quietly starts to wither. She hates him, it's obvious, but he can't help but stand there anyway.

He realizes with a start that the sweet laughter was hers, and it feels like a stab to the gut; he's never heard her laugh like that before. It's pure happiness and joy and he feels like he's slowly being stepped on, pushed further and further into the ground.

"Tsubaki," she greets with a harsh frown. She crosses her arms and Hinata steps up beside her with a look of confusion.

"Kazahana," he greets back with a nod. "Hinata."

She sticks her tongue out at the use of her full name as Hinata nods back and places his hands on his hips.

Hinata is handsome enough, he knows girls like him, but he had to wonder: did she like him? If she did what was it about him that she liked? He felt his lips start to dip in a frown but quickly flashed a perfect smile.

"Is there something you need, Tsubaki?" She asks. She looks very pretty in her tunic today; the color compliments her skin tone.

"I was just making my way from the practice room," he says as he meets her eyes. Her face twitches ever so slightly. "I nearly didn't recognize you with your hair pulled back, Kazahana."

She angrily uncrosses her arms and places them on her hips, just like Hinata. "My hair was getting in the way so I put it up."

"Your hair never seemed to be a problem before," he says with nonchalance; he doesn't want her to catch on. His gaze crosses from her face to the boy's next to her. "I didn't know you fancied hanging out with Hinata."

He shuffles uncomfortably under his stare and Tsubaki takes that as a silent victory. A victory to what, he doesn't know or care.

"And I didn't know that you cared what I did," she replies. They're fighting again and he finds himself not enjoying it as much.

"I only care when you don't show up to train," he says as he meets her eyes once again. They narrow under his gaze and he can tell she's getting heated. "You did get on me about showing up late yesterday, didn't you?"

She laughs, this one not as nice and light as the one he heard before. "Well I guess you're out of luck for today. I already got my training in with Hinata."

He snaps his eyes back to Hinata and he feels inexplicably angry. His heart starts pounding and his blood starts boiling and pretty soon there'll be a completely different fight happening in the hallway than the one already taking place. He places his hands behind his back where he can clench them and unclench them in peace.

"Well then, I guess I'll just have to find Oboro," he says and he makes it a point to look Hinata up and down as he mentions the other retainer's name. "We can train together today."

She stiffens and drops her hands to her sides, turning her nose upward in a very snobby and very unlike her manner. "Well, have fun with _her_ ," she says back and he can't help but notice the emphasis she puts on 'her'. Did the idea of what she did to him make her mad when it was the other way around?

"Let's go, Hinata," she spins on her heel walking back the way they came, Hinata closely following with that confused look again.

Tsubaki also turns on his heel to walk back the way he came. He doesn't go looking for Oboro like he said and instead walks back into the practice room and closes the door behind him.

He feels like ripping himself apart as he stands in the middle of the room. He has to do something- anything- to release this anger and then he spies it.

This time he pushes over the sword rack and the clattering of it and its companions is satisfying, but it's not enough. He's irritated, mad, upset, any word he can think of to describe just how he feels is not enough.

He looks around at the mess he's created and sits in the middle of it all. He spends another hour waiting for it all to pass over and this time, nobody comes in.

 

* * *

 

They go an entire week before they are forced to talk to one another again.

She never comes back to train with him, but he shows up every morning anyways just in case.

He thinks this new feeling he has is jealousy and the word makes him sick.

He sees her spending more and more time with Hinata, and he is none too pleased that a slob like him gets to be with such a beauty like her. They're always together now; sitting by one another in the mess hall, sparring together out in the training field, laughing and softly speaking behind the tents when they think no one is around. He's seen it all and it makes him all the more nauseous that she might actually be into him.

They are in Lady Sakura's tent when they are eventually forced to be together. The fourth royal child and second princess of Hoshido makes them all meet in her tent once a week to "spend quality time together". She told her two retainers once that they were as much as a family to her as her actual family was; he was thankful that he had such a kind and caring liege like her.

Normally they would all joke around or play a game or just talk about how their week has been. But this night there was a thick tension and he was sure the princess would notice.

He sits on the floor against her bed and the princess sits behind him on the edge, carefully braiding his hair.  It's a normal thing for them; Lady Sakura often asks anyone with long enough hair that she braid it.

Hana lies on the bed next to Lady Sakura with her head near the princess’s legs; the two are best friends, their relationship dating back to childhood. He cannot see either of them from the way he is facing but he can guess that she has one leg propped up on the other while she idly plays with the ends of her hair. He wishes to braid her hair, to feel the soft pieces between his fingers, but he quickly shakes his head at the thought.

"Tsubaki, don't move," the princess says with that soft voice of hers. He feels her unwind a few pieces and start over.

"Sorry, my lady," he replies and he makes it a point to sit completely still.

"You two have been awfully quiet tonight," Sakura notes. He silently curses; so she has noticed.

He doesn't say anything and neither does Hana so the princess clears her throat. "Is there nothing interesting going on this week?"

He never knew why she insisted on knowing about their week when the two were with the princess nearly all the time. Maybe it was just a girl thing.

When neither of them say anything to that, she speaks again. "I see you hanging out with Hinata lately, Hana."

He hears the bed squeak to which he has to guess was her lifting her head and looking at the princess. "Yeah, we've been talking lately."

He snorts and it doesn't go unnoticed.

"What's so funny, Tsubaki?" Sakura asks, pulling his hair backwards so he can look up at her. 

He grins. "Nothing, my lady. I am just amused at how simple of an answer our dear Kazahana gave you. Especially since she likes Hinata so much."

He sees Sakura's mouth open in surprise as she turns to look at her companion and he hears the bed really squeak as Hana sits up fast.

" _What_?" He hears her say, and he can't help but laugh.

"Oh, don't try denying it, Hana," he grins as he starts to set his plan in motion. He'll make her upset, just like he always does.

"Why didn't you tell me you liked Hinata?" The princess is still holding his hair back and all he can see is her surprised face. Her eyebrows are raised and her eyes are wide.

"Because I don't like Hinata, not like that!" She sounds frantic, like the accusation is a death sentence. "We're only friends!"

He rolls his eyes and he hopes she can see them. "That's impossible, you two spend every waking moment together. Have you seriously not seen the signs, Lady Sakura?"

Sakura looks back down at him and he hears both the girls say at the same time: "What signs?"

"The way they always share meals in the dining tent, how they always joke around. I've seen myself a few times Hana giggling and pushing his shoulder. Is that not what girls do when they flirt?"

Sakura gasps and turns her attention back to the poor girl.

"I am not flirting!" She all but shouts.

"They even train together," he says, ignoring her. He can't help the bitterness that creeps into his voice. "That's as obvious as it gets."

"Yes, I suppose those could be signs," Sakura agrees. He sees her lightly slap Hana's arm and he grins even wider. "Why didn't you tell me?"

She groans and he hears the bed squeak again and he's sure she's flopped back down on it. She lets out a big puff of air.

"Maybe she's embarrassed; it's almost as bad as when she liked your brother."

"Hey!"

Sakura laughs at the memory. "Oh yes, you were completely infatuated with Brother Takumi when we were younger."

"Don't bring that up," she groans again and he sticks his tongue out, though he's not sure she's seen it.

"Yes, completely infatuated. Your brother, not so much."

Sakura laughs again and let's go of his hair; he turns around to see Hana, now on her elbows, giving him a fierce glare. He smiles at her.

"Hinata might be the one this time though," he continues his teasing. "Though I'm not sure how far they've gone yet."

She picks a pillow up and throws it at him, to which he humbly dodges. "Shut up, Tsubaki! That's inappropriate to talk about in front of a princess."

"So you're admitting you've done inappropriate things with Hinata?" He can't stop himself, her reactions are too good.

She turns a bright red and looks away, turning her nose upwards and crossing her arms. "You're gross."

"You're not denying it."

"We haven't done anything because I don't like him like that," she declaims.

"What if he likes you like that?" Sakura speaks up. She's sitting cross legged on her bed now, Tsubaki's hair completely forgotten.

"What?"

"What if Hinata likes you too?" She repeats. "He must like hanging out with you if he keeps doing it."

He looks at Hana and is suddenly worried at what she'll say. She uncrosses her arms and her eyebrows furrow together in a look of concern; she looks dejected and unsure. He can only imagine what she's thinking about but he knows he shouldn't voice his thoughts on the question out loud. He doesn't have to though.

"I hope he doesn't," he hears her mutter; it's quiet and unlike her but it's the exact thing he wants to say himself.

"Why not?" Sakura asks with an even softer voice. Tsubaki rolls his eyes because he knows this is when the girls start getting emotional and philosophical, it happens every time their voices change like that.

"If Hinata likes Hana back, imagine the family they will raise!" He interrupts and both the girls turn to look at him.

Only this time Hana clambers over the princess's lap and launches herself at him. She throws him to the floor, his back hitting the ground hard as he lets out an _oof!_

She starts trying to wrestle him, to punch him he's sure, and he grabs her wrists to keep his face from being pummeled. She struggles and he wiggles around trying to push himself up but the petite girl is much stronger than she looks.

She then sits on his abdomen, her legs straddling him, and he immediately stops moving. His eyes widen and he feels so wrong that it feels so right to have her body touching his. He hates himself for the thought and he hates her for the action, he feels gross and vile.

"Take it back!" She shouts while she still struggles to yank her arms free from his hands. She has on her war face, one that has greeted many men on the battlefield shortly before their demise.

"Why?" he asks, his grip tightening on her wrists. "Is it not all true?"

He realizes then that it would be so easy to kiss her now. All he would have to do is push his arms out to the sides and she would come crashing down towards him. Their lips would meet and he would finally get to see just how nice she tastes; he gets butterflies in his stomach at the thought.

But he's pulled from his illusions as she starts struggling more violently. He knows if he lets go she'll hit him, and he truly does not want to be receiving a blow from her.

"I'll kill you if you keep spreading this rumor," she threatens and then, much to his surprise and chagrin, she stands up and uses all her power to flip him over onto his stomach where he's forced to let go of her. She grabs his arms and holds them behind him as she takes a seat on his back.

"Get off me, Hana," he commands, though he doesn't really care if she does or not.

"Say you'll stop talking about this," she demands, and he's not sure he can deny her.

"Hana," he hears Sakura call and they both turn to look at the princess, though he strains to see her from his position. She wears an amused smile and she giggles behind a hand. "Let poor Tsubaki go."

"What? He keeps harassing me about Hinata, I can't."

"Hana," the princess warns, and with much reluctance, the girl stands. He rolls back over to see her standing above him, hands on hips, just like Hinata. She frowns down at him and sticks her tongue out.

"That's very childish, Hana," he says, though he had done the same thing earlier. "How old are you again? Twelve? Thirteen?"

Anger flashes across her; it's a common occurrence that her age is guessed wrong. Quickly, she plops herself back down on him, forcing all the air out of his lungs; he can hear the princess sigh at their antics.

His heart nearly leaps out of his throat when she places one hand on the floor near his head and the other with a finger extended on his chest. She leans in, far too close for anyone's comfort until their faces are inches apart. She's beautiful; her eyes sparkle so brightly from here and he can see small freckles lightly dancing across her face, something he wouldn't be able to see if she wasn't this close. Oh yes, it would be so easy to kiss her now. He hopes she can't feel his heart pounding.

"I _will_ kill you," she says in a harsh whisper, pushing her finger into his chest.

"Hana," Sakura calls again. With one last glare she stands, allowing him to sit up. He takes the moment to steady his heartbeat.

"Will you two come sit over here?" Sakura requests, though to them it is more of an order than anything else.

He and Hana make their way over to the low table in the center of the room, one on each side, and sit. They both place their hands flat on the table in front of them; they know they will be reprimanded. Sakura takes her place at the head of the small table, looking between them. It is silent for a moment as she studies her retainers, then she speaks.

"Did something happen between the two of you that I don't know about?"

He shares a look with the girl across from him, his face feeling suddenly hotter. She casts her eyes down towards her hands; she'd rather be slapped than questioned.

"I'm sorry, Sakura," she apologizes. "I didn't mean to cause a commotion."

"I am sorry as well, my lady," he says; he's not really sure he's sorry though. "I was the one egging her on. It's my own fault."

The princess runs her finger over the edge of the table, drawing letters in the wood. She sighs and places her head in her hand. "There's discourse between you two, and I couldn't tell at first, but now it's obvious."

His pulse spikes. He instinctively rolls his fingers into his palms but think better of it and lays them flat again.

"I love you two very dearly, and it would crush me if you were unable to protect one another in battle."

His eyes slowly move to find hers; she doesn't look up.

"If you are unable to protect and fight alongside each other, you are unable to serve under me."

Her head snaps up at that and she opens her mouth to protest. Sakura holds up her hand, silencing her, and tries to finish.

"I-I don't want to have to find two new retainers because you couldn't do your job."

It feels like he's been slapped; this is the kind of speech her siblings would give their retainers, not the sweet and timid princess. He looks back across the table and he meets her eyes. There are no angry glares or disappointed looks this time, only ones that he is sure match his own. Regret, understanding, guilt.

She gives him a resolute nod; it's a truce, and together they look to their liege.

"We understand," they say in unison.

"We will work harder."

"We will protect each other in battle. But together we will protect you."

The princess sighs with relief, the heavy burden taken off her shoulders. "Thank you, so much. It means the world to me. I love you both too much."

They all share a smile then the princess stands.

"I will be heading to bed now. You may take your leave."

Hana frowns, ready to protest again, but he quietly slaps his palm down, warning her to stop. Sakura doesn't notice.

"I am lucky to have such....such," The princess struggles for the right word.

"Beautiful?"

"Strong?"

"Brave!"

" _Perfect_."

Sakura giggles. "Loyal," she finally says. "I am lucky to have such loyal retainers. I thank you both very much. Good night."

They both quickly stand and bow; they bid their farewells and sweet dreams alike then leave the tent. The night air is cold, their breath clings to it in big white puffs; it's been unusually cold this season, he's not sure why, but feels like it has to do with the war. War is cold and unforgiving, much like tonight.

He looks up at the soft night, at the stars shining brightly as they twinkle in and out of existence; something he wishes he could do. The moon is huge at this hour as its light casts everything in an eerie white.

Next to him, she clears her throat. He looks down, she's a whole head shorter than him, and she awkwardly shuffles on her feet.

"I'm not sure I like it being this cold this time of year," she comments. He smiles to himself and turns his body to face hers.

"It's unusual, but I don't mind," he replies.

Her eyebrows draw together as she places her hands behind her back. She turns to face him too. She's quiet, but only for a moment.

"Tsubaki, did I... Did I hurt your feelings? When I ignored you with Hinata?"

He sucks in the cold air and contemplates whether or not he should tell her what's on his mind. In truth his feelings were a little more than hurt. He was, he's only willing to admit to himself, jealous and envious.

"I don't know," he says, "I was just worried."

"About?"

"About us."

Her eyes move away from his face and he wants to take a peek into her head, at what she was thinking.

"I was just mad," she admits.

He doesn't say anything; she nervously shuffles from one foot to the other under his gaze. He breathes in.

"I'm sorry."

He breathes out.

He never really wanted an apology; no he would never ask that from her. He had never even thought of her apologizing to him; if anything, it should be the other way around.

She's thinking, hard, and she stays quiet for several minutes until he sees her shiver.

"Are you cold?" He asks. She shakes her head and wraps her arms around herself.

"I'm fine."

He doesn't believe her.

And he doesn't believe that he takes a step forward, his body moving by itself. Gingerly, he raises a hand, then another, and oh so gently takes her face into his hands. Her cheeks are cold but quickly heat up with a blush as she realizes what he's doing; her hands fall to her sides. It's a daring move, it doesn't feel real and he's not even sure it is, but it feels good; it feels right.

She's the silent one this time as he searches her eyes, for something, anything. They're big and brown and her eyelashes gently brush over her skin when she blinks and he realizes, he realizes with much chagrin and desperation and spite, that he is completely enamored by her.

He wants her.

He unconsciously strokes her cheek with his thumb and her skin is so soft that even a god might be jealous. He wants her, he finally admits, and he wants to kiss her, he wants to bury his face in her neck, inhale those sweet smells of the cherry blossom tree and the dirt beneath her bare feet.

It would be so easy to do it all now.

He watches carefully as she timidly raises her hand to his, placing it over. He thinks she'll remove it and then beat him with it (his own hand!) but instead she surprises him once again. She keeps her hand there, not meeting his gaze, and instead closes her eyes and leans into it. His breath catches and he's suddenly sure of one thing.

He must be dreaming; he had to be dreaming. There was no way she was allowing such an act to occur in front of her. He feels feint and light and giddy.

"Tsubaki," she says, but it comes out more like a whisper. "I'm sorry."

He gulps and contemplates letting go. His body doesn't listen to his mind's warnings and moves closer to hers, until their torsos are almost touching.

"It's fine," and his own voice is hoarse, barely even a whisper.

He's not sure what's happening anymore. Only moments ago had they been fighting.

She opens her eyes and he notices, barely, that she takes a shaky breath. She opens her mouth to speak but the words never come.

He could do it now, let his world come crashing down around him in blissful chaos.

He looks at her face closely and licks his lips. Oh yes, now would be the perfect time.

But he notices a small, tiny snowflake fall in front of his eyes and land on her cheek. She blinks at the contact and looks up. When she smiles she looks dazed, like she is coming down from a beautiful high.

More snowflakes fall and soon it's sticking to her hair, her eyelashes, then slowly melting away.

The moment is broken as she steps away and his hands fall back to his sides; her attention belonged to the sky once again.

"It's so pretty when it snows," she comments, holding out her hands to catch the flakes.

He feels like his stomach is being twisted and pulled; the gods were laughing at his sick state. "If only the sun were out to catch them," he says.

She looks back at him with a smile.

"It's getting late," he tells her, "and cold. I think it's time we also turn in for the night."

She stares at him a moment longer then nods. He feels disappointed in a way and he knows he shouldn't; she is not his to have.

He turns to walk away but she calls out to him. His heart leaps to his throat.

"We're on for training tomorrow, right?"

He grins, he's elated, but he keeps his cool and looks over his shoulder. "Of course."

He sees her nod again and he feels as if he's achieved something.

"Goodnight, Hana."

"Goodnight, Tsubaki."

They both go their separate ways and walk into the night. The snow clings to his hair, his shirt, his eyelashes, but he wouldn't have it any other way. For the first time in a week he feels okay, but only okay.

His mind is spinning and he feels drunk and dopey and just utterly like a sick fool, though he's not sure what that sickness is yet.

He shuffles, on and on, until he reaches his tent. He tries to get her out of his head but he knows it's no use. His heart won't stop pounding and he can hear the blood rushing in his ears. She's all he can think about as he enters his tent, and she's all he can think about when he gets in bed, and she's all he can think about when he closes his eyes to sleep.

He has an idea of what this sickness is. 


	2. the pieces are there (but none of them fit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She sighs and her breath is hot on his neck. "Never can say no to her, can you?"
> 
> "Neither can you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> almost ten thousand words but here's two more:  
> bushido. code.

"Again!"

The sweet sound of metal scraping against metal rings in his ears as he watches her back away from his sword.

"If you want to be perfect you have to perfect the sword."

Another clang rings out as they cross weapons again.

"Oh Kazahana, you know that I already am perfect."

She gives him an unimpressed look as they start to circle one another. It's like watching a dance perfectly executed; the song and moves are just right, and he yearns for an encore.

"Is that so?"

She rushes towards him to which he replies with a block to her swing.

"Of course. Everyone tells me so it _must_ be true."

She scoffs as she steps away again. She holds the weapon out in front of her and he watches, waiting for her to make her move. She's grace and beauty when she holds a weapon in her hands; nothing in the world could touch her when she did.

She charges forward and starts to swing for his right side, only to change directions halfway and knock the sword from his hands from the left. It clatters to the floor with a loud noise. She grins.

"You're starting to favor your right side again," she tells him with a patronizing tone he's given her a thousand times before. "I guess you're not so perfect after all."

He frowns.

"Just because I lost this time doesn't mean I'm not perfect. I'm simply human."

She rolls her eyes and grabs his sword from the floor. "That sounds like something a person who fell off a horse would say."

He sharply turns his head towards her. Of course she would bring that up, it was obligatory.

"Will you ever let that go?" He asks, dejected.

She grins even wider, a devilish, wicked grin. "Only if you stop telling people that you're perfect."

"Why would I lie to people like that?"

"You're lying to people by telling them you’re perfect!"

"People come up to me and tell me I'm perfect. I don't go around flattering myself, I just happen to agree when they say so. It's not a lie if it's true though."

He watches with amusement as she throws her arms up in the air in defeat. He had won something after all.

She goes over to the rack to place their practice swords back, then collapses onto her back on the floor. She breathes deeply and her chest rises and falls with exhaustion.

He takes a moment to study her as he still stands and he is completely enamored by the image. She's sweaty and grimy and she's out of breath, but to him she is the most beautiful thing he's had the pleasure of seeing. Her brown and curly hair pools around her head as her big bright eyes stare up at the ceiling; her eyelashes gently sweep across her cheeks each time she blinks. There's a small smile on her face as she places her hands on her stomach; her pink han-juban is crooked and he watches as she takes off her gauntlets and throws them to the side.

She notices him standing there and gives him a look and a nod to the spot next to her. He obliges.

He feels his muscles aching as he lies down on the floor; it creaks under his weight and his back is suddenly given an intense sensation as he lays flat. He places his arms behind his head and stares up at the dull, beige ceiling. He wants to fall asleep, but he doesn't think he'd be able to with her right here.

She invades every thought of his mind; he finds it getting harder and harder to fall asleep (and then harder and harder to wake up).

"You're getting better with the katana," she notes as she turns her gaze to look at him. He looks back and the world turns sideways as he meets her brown eyes.

"Why, thank you, Kazahana. It means a lot to hear it from the pro herself."

She gives him a wide smile and his heart thumps loudly in his chest. "It's about time you recognize that I'm the best."

He clicks his tongue and prepares for the coming words he is likely to receive. "I don't know about the best; Hinata may have you beat, Prince Ryouma for sure."

"Hinata?" She asks incredulously. She scoffs. "If you say so."

He draws his eyebrows together. It's not the usual outburst he had been expecting. It was calm and almost offhand.

"Are you feeling well, Hana?" he asks, and her face contorts with confusion.

"What? Why?"

"You are certainly not acting yourself; you didn't bite back when I teased you."

Her confusion turns into a sly grin.

"Now that you mention it, I'm feeling a bit flushed. Maybe you could fetch me some water, or a nice towelette."

He rolls his eyes with very little effort. She had teased him back.

"Har har," he says flatly. "I take back my previous concern. You're obviously fine."

She sticks her tongue out at him to which he returns the favor, surprising him once again when she giggles. His heart nearly stops as his breath catches in his throat; she hardly ever laughed when he was around and he turns bitter at the thought. Why was that?

She sighs and looks back up at the ceiling; he feels disappointment from the broken contact. "I guess maybe I'm just growing up; fighting back is such a childish act."

He is the confused one this time; fighting back was childish? Just who was this girl?

"Well you are still a child, aren't you?"

"I am not!"

"According to Hoshidan law you are."

She tries to swing her arm to smack him, but she misses and smacks the floor instead, hissing in pain.

"That law is dumb," she complains, rubbing the back of her hand. "If I'm old enough to fight in this war as a retainer to Sakura, I am old enough to be an adult."

He shakes his head (the best he can while laying sideways) and gives her a patronizing look. "Don't worry, seijin shiki just passed. You _only_ still have another whole year."

"A whole year for the next ceremony," she corrects. "I will be of age next month."

That was right; their birthdays were barely a month apart, his had just passed. He lets out a hollow breath. "Sometimes I wish I was still a teenager."

She groans and rolls her eyes only to meet his own once again. "You're only two years older, quit acting like your fifty."

"Two years older, two years of more life experience," he says as he sits up. "I might as well be fifty compared to you."

"I'm not twelve, y'know," and she sits up also. She places her arms loosely around her legs.

"Oh of course not, how could I forget when you literally just reminded me?"

"Just wanted to make sure you got it through that thick head of yours. Your memory doesn't seem to be so perfect."

He throws her a look to which she replies with an equally unimpressed one. His mind feels fuzzy at the eye contact and his blood pumps faster through his body.

He stands and then offers her a hand up to which she happily accepts. Her hand fits in his nicely and he can't help the smile that forms on his face as she takes it.

Joints crack as she stands up to which he says: "Maybe I was wrong, you are getting old."

She tries smacking him again, succeeding this time, but she fails at trying to hide her own smile from reaching her face.

"Whatever," she says, and she takes her hand back, using it to tuck a strand of hair away behind her ear. "I need to wash up, I'll see you later."

"Leaving so soon?" He asks. "Are you afraid that I'll finally beat you?"

"Hah! As if you ever could," she places her hands on her hips. "You're talking to the pro here, remember?"

"Obviously I don't," he replies, matching her stance. "My memory is not so perfect according to you."

"Maybe you need to see a doctor, that could be pretty serious," she jabs back.

He gives her a sly look. "Perhaps you could jog my memory, great hero of the blade."

She's already halfway to the sword rack before he's even finished speaking; she never was one to back down from a challenge. He scoffs; fighting was childish yet she couldn't refuse. 

"If you insist, I guess I'll have to kick your butt again," she says as she turns to face him and throw a sword through the air. He catches it with ease.

"I won't lose this time," he promises as he swings it around and readies himself. He is not as skilled with a sword as she is, but he takes every chance he can get to be with her, to be near her.

"We'll see about that," she raises her sword and smiles, that devious, dangerous smile, and he feels a light fluttering within him.

They stare at each other for a moment, then the tension breaks. She laughs harshly and he finds it mesmerizing, she is so at home when she has a blade in her hands and he wants to be a part of it. Part of her mirth, part of her being, he wants to be a part of her life.

She takes a step back and holds her sword up.

"En garde!" 

 

* * *

 

 

He doesn't like being thrown from his Pegasus very much, he doesn't imagine anyone would.

But nonetheless it happens anyways and he lies on his back on the dirty battlefield. He prays to the gods that no one's seen him fly off the thing.

He gets up and brushes off his body; looking around it seems that the battle is over, few Nohrian soldiers are left to surrender, but his Pegasus is nowhere in sight. He lets out a long and exasperated groan as he picks up his lance and steps over fallen bodies. War was an awful thing. 

The bodies of Hoshidans and Nohrians alike litter the battlefield and he knows that Princess Sakura will soon have to come out and start healing them. He grows sober at the thought of such a young and delicate thing having to step over the dead bodies of people fighting for her country just like him. She will have to heal the ones still alive, but not all of them will be saved. He thinks about how devastating that would be, how devastating it _will_ be, to have someone's life in your hands, someone with a family and a home, and it just slips away right through your fingers. He is glad he is not a healer, he knows the burden would've been too great for him to handle, but instead he chose the path of a killer.

A protector, actually, but to protect something great you must defend it from those who try to harm it, and in times like these (in a war like this) that usually meant killing. He doesn't like it; the first time he ever took someone's life, during a small scouting trip along the Hoshidan border when he was just a trainee, he had thrown up. He had been laughed at and pitied by his fellow comrades, he was more embarrassed than anything now, but he would never forget the way that man's eyes widened with shock, the way blood came out of his mouth, the sound of metal ripping into flesh. All of it was too much for him then, but now, now he was practically desensitized, it didn't faze him as much as it used to and that bothers him. He's worried that he's becoming a monster, he's afraid that he'll stop feeling any sort of remorse for any living thing; it's frightening to know that somewhere on the other side, there is a Nohrian just like him, willing to take lives and give his own all in the name of their home country. He hates the feeling but he knows it is the way of what he has chosen; so the gods say, it is the way the world works.

He tries not to look at the faces on the ground all around him as he whistles and calls for his mount. His noises almost leave an unearthly echo throughout the field as he notices he is the only one standing for a good two hundred feet. He stops walking and looks around. Where was everyone?

Just before he had been thrown from his mount he was near Lord Takumi and his two retainers; he wasn't sure where his partner had went. She always charged headfirst into battle without a care in the world, all in the good name of Lady Sakura, and he usually followed. He had tried explaining to her once that it was foolish to be ready to die so easily, he didn't want her to throw away _her_ life for the "greater good", but it had only led to another heated argument; he never tried talking sense into her again.

In the distance he can see the healers that usually stay behind until the fighting is over start to disperse throughout the battlefield, and he knows Lady Sakura will be one of them. From the looks of the soldiers near him, there won't be many of them coming back to camp.

He continues walking once again, practically almost tripping on the mounds of bodies as he gets towards the center of where the main battle was. Perhaps everyone had already retreated and he had just been thrown further than he thought. He shrugs off the growing worry in his mind and rolls his shoulders; they're stiff from the fall.

Along the outskirts of the field are trees and flowers. They are beautiful, they are just starting to bloom (and at such an early time of year), but he can't help but think that it would be such a prettier scene if there wasn't so many bodies lying around. The stench of blood soon starts to overpower the fragrant flowers and he is forced to cover his nose. He hates the metallic tang of it, it's almost enough to make him sick, but he carries on as he keeps his eyes trained on the healers far ahead. He counts them out, ten of them, and he knows that there will not be enough to get to most of the soldiers on this side in time.

He just happens to look down, luck had been on his side, as he tries stepping over another body. But his blood freezes and his heart quite literally stops at what he has found lying on the ground. It can't be, it couldn't be; he most definitely feels sick now.

It's _her_ , lying face down in the dirt. He lets out a strangled noise as he drops his lance and shoves a Nohrian body that's next to her out of the way. He falls to her side and carefully rolls her over. She doesn't look good.

Her headband's missing and in its place is a gash that travels from the middle of her forehead to somewhere hidden by her hair; it's once light brown tone now a matted mess tinged with the crimson hues of war. One of her gauntlets is gone and her chest piece is hanging on by only one strap. Another one of her shoes is broken, the leather bindings are ripped from their wooden home, and she's missing a shin guard; her hair is a matted mess and her nose looks broken as blood starts to dry beneath it. Her lip is spilt and her teeth have blood caked between each other and he has to shove the bile rising in his throat back down.

He places his ear to her chest as his own heart starts racing faster than he can handle, but he can't hear a thing. He's frantic as he rips off the other strap and tosses her chest piece to the side, only to reveal a large blood pool staining her pink shirt. He replaces his ear once again and the blood is still wet, but the heartbeat is there. His ear feels sticky as he moves away; he doesn't bother to wipe it. It's faint, but he accepts it as he pulls off a glove, and he holds his bare hand under her nose; her breaths are short and shallow, he can barely feel it.

It's good enough for him as he quickly tries to scoop her up into his arms. She heavier than he thought she would be, but then again it was all dead weight. He tries to place her arms across her stomach but they just limply fall off to the sides; he curses as he stands up, he'll have to leave his lance behind, and he doesn't even bother looking for her sword.

He begins making his way over to where the healers were, but they are no longer there. He cannot find any on the battlefield anymore, he's not sure where they all could've gone in that short amount of time, but now he sees the soldiers well enough to stand traversing and searching through the fallen. Through his frantic haze he sees a man with a ponytail, he knows that man, he would be able to help.

He starts walking faster, trotting practically, and her head lolls and bounces as he has to start hopping and leaping over bodies. He feels as if he can't move fast enough, he's treading through molasses, and then he sees something that makes him come to a halt. He almost drops her.

It looks like a shrine maiden resting against the other side of a tree, her back is to him, and he makes his way over to the tree line. The flowers bloom brightly but he suddenly finds himself hating them; something so beautiful could flourish while the world around it was dying. It's not fair.

"Help!" He calls as he comes up to the tree. "There's wounded."

The shrine maiden doesn't respond, she keeps on resting and he finds it very rude. He was going to have a word with her God of choice.

He shifts the broken girl in his arms as he steps forward and he no longer thinks he has to talk to that God. He understands now, why she wouldn't move before, and he immediately regrets everything. The shrine maiden is pinned to the tree; an arrow through the throat holds her there. Her eyes are glassy and still open and he has to put Hana down; he runs to the flowers and throws up, it's all too much. He feels weak.

He wipes his mouth and picks her back up, not looking at the dead maiden, and not looking at the girl in his arms. It's awful, just awful, and he wonders why he ever followed in his family's footsteps.

She needs a healer, and fast; he's not sure how much longer she will hold out. He checks her breathing again and he is relieved to find that there's life in her yet, though it is still barely there. He starts moving as fast as he can through the haze in his mind toward the scavengers.

When the scavengers and recovery crew come closer into view, he takes off running as fast as he can with a practically dead girl in his arms. He passes them with a frantic ease until he sees the one he's looking for.

He's squatting on the ground, poking around a Hoshidan soldier. He has a concentrated look on his face.

"Takumi!" He shouts as he forgets all formalities. He dances over the bodies as she grows heavier; he's starting to panic though it seems a little late.

The prince looks up with a look of disdain but it's gone just as quick when he sees the two. He stands up and meets them halfway.

"Hana?" His eyes are wide as he looks upon the girl. Tsubaki tries to catch his breath as the prince asks: "What happened?"

"Where's Lady Sakura?" he struggles to ask. He feels as if he might collapse soon too.

The look on the prince's face turns from concerned to deadly; he knows he's in trouble.

"You don't know where your liege is?"

He starts to feel a little angry; normally he and Hana would stay behind with Sakura until the battle was over, but today Lord Ryouma himself had asked that they join the fight. He told them it would be a tough one, and from the looks of it all, he was right.

"Where is Sakura?" He asks again, harsher and with a frown, throwing titles and royalty to the wind. Takumi furrows his eyebrows together at the informal use of his sister's name.

"You need to learn your-"

"Hana needs a healer, Lord Takumi," he interrupts. She doesn't have time for such frivolous things; her life was quite literally in his hands.

Takumi looks down once again at the girl and his face softens; he's known her as long as Sakura has, he even used to train with her. If anything, she was another little sister that he never asked for.

Takumi looks to the east and points with a gloved hand, though he can't really tell what he's trying to show him. He doesn't see anything, just bodies and bodies.

"She was over there last," he tells him and with one final look at Hana, one that is full of a softness that is unlike the second prince, he meets his eyes. "Go quickly."

He nods at the command and takes off running once again. He's not sure how much longer he can keep holding her, his arms are starting to go numb, but he knows he will keep going until he no longer can. She cannot die today, she _will not_ die today; she has to live to see her seijin shiki, to see the day she becomes an adult. _He_ has to see her do all those things.

His mind and his legs are barely keeping up with one another; time seems to move slower the faster he runs and pretty soon he stops to take a breath. He shifts her weight in his arms and he takes a peek down at her.

He can't explain this _feeling_ he has when he sees her broken and bloodied; the deep red stain on her shirt is starting to dry but the color from her face is starting to drain. He doesn't have to touch her bare skin to know that she must feel cold. He was running out of time.

As he takes off again, he thinks of what a world without her would be like. He would never see her again, she would be buried or burned; he would never get to touch her like he wants to, never learn the curves of her bare skin, the way the dip of her neck feels against his lips or what _her_ lips feel like against him. Never would he ever get to press his mouth against hers and never would he ever get to lean in real close, until her soft hair is tickling his nose while he whispers words for only her to hear from only him. No more training with her, no more teasing her, no more of her rare laughter or her smile or those devilish looks she gives him, and all those thoughts make his throat tight. He thinks he might puke again.

He reaches the area Takumi had pointed to before and his eyes dart around. There is a group of three healers and two guards and then he sees the cherry blossom princess herself. He nearly cries out in relief.

"Lady Sakura!" He yells as he is filled with renewed energy; he picks up the pace.

The girl whirls around from the body she is looking at and stands. Her eyes grow wide, just like her brother's, and he sees her let out something like a strangled sob.

" _Hana_?!" She all but screams as she runs towards them, and the sound is loud, this one most definitely echoes throughout the battlefield. Somehow he regrets bringing the girl to her, this was her best friend after all, maybe it would be too much for her.

He meets halfway once again. The princess is already close to tears.

"Put her down," she commands, to which he humbly obeys. He kneels with the princess and his arms feel sudden relief from the dead weight lost, but he finds himself reaching for her hand instead now.

"W-what happened?" Sakura asks and he frowns; he cannot give her an adequate response.

"I don't know," he admits, "I was making my way back from the battle and I found her like this."

"You weren't with her?" She asks incredibly, because she knows they are always side by side, most everyone does. The sick feeling in the pit of his stomach doesn't go away.

"We got separated," he laments. He can't help but notice the hint of disappointment in her voice and he knows, with every fiber of his being, that he has failed in some way. He would be in serious trouble later, if not by her then her brother.

He lets her get to work; she starts humming and quietly chanting and touching her with the tip of her healing staff, but something doesn't seem right. The bright glow of her healing magic comes into the world, it sprinkles over her like a fine dust, but she's not waking up.

"When did you find her?" She suddenly looks up and her eyes are glassy; he knows what's coming and he feels like someone has their hand around his heart.

"Not that long ago, but she was all the way on the other side of the battlefield and I couldn't find you."

"So you don't know how long she's been unconscious?"

He shakes his head.

She looks back down and he sees her clench her teeth. She starts humming again but this time it's broken and her voice cracks. He looks down too and he notices how his sickness hasn't gone away, he's not sure it ever will; if she were not in such disrepair he might've thought she was peacefully sleeping.

Sakura begins weeping as she starts a new round of chanting, and surprisingly, he feels as if he'll start crying too. His head is pounding and his heart hurts; he's in total distress.

This healing is taking much too long for his liking; they sit there for quite some time that even the other healers that were with the princess before are done and moving on. He pushes his bangs back from his face, he's not sure if _he'll_ make it, and he hunches over like he is praying. He's let go of her hand by this time, both of his own are to the sides of his face, cradling his aching head.

Sakura's cries turn into heartbreaking sobs and he looks up to see what's wrong. Tears run down her face in a never ending flow and her eyes are bloodshot; her face is red and splotchy, and in that moment, she doesn't look much like a princess.

"I-I don't know if I can do this," she wails. "I'm trying but she just won't wake up. Her wounds won't close!"

His heart stops again and he is sure that all this oscillation between the adrenaline and heartaches isn't good for him. Nonetheless, he reaches over and takes the princess's hand. He knows that it's inappropriate, that if someone (perhaps like Lord Takumi) were to see him, he would be beaten. He squeezes it anyways, clinging to it with desperate pleas on the tip of his tongue and painful cries stuck in the back of his throat.

"Please," he begs and he hears his own voice crack. "Lady Sakura, you _have_ to."

"But, Tsubaki-"

"You can do it, please," he closes his eyes and lowers his head. " _Please_."

She's pushed to tears further and he mentally chastises himself; what was wrong with him? He knows she would do anything for this girl; he knows the princess would not stop, even if she was already long gone, until someone dragged her away or she had passed out from the exhaustion.

She nods anyways and takes back her hand.

He barely hears her voice as she starts once again; he's tuning out the rest of the world and taking prisoner within his mind as he leans back over again, his chest making contact with his knees. He thinks he might be going crazy.

He looks to the side, to the tree line and blooming flowers, and he nearly laughs with bitter content. They're camellia flowers, red ones, and he notices that some have already been trampled and knocked off. How ironic, he thinks. Is this what he was to her; was he her demise?

If only he had kept track of her.

Everything was his fault, wasn't it? She liked to blame him the most, didn't she? She was right every single time she told him he was not perfect, nothing about him was. If he was, she would not be like this, the princess would not be so distressed, in fact, he never would've even been thrown from his horse. He was not perfect and he never would be; the extremely high standards he sets for himself were unachievable now and always had been. He fooled everyone into thinking he was perfect, but it was all just a lie. He holds back a sob.

He wants to hear her voice, just once more.

He's desperate to have her back on this plane of reality. His wants and wishes and desires are all of her, and he's angry in some selfish way, that he will never achieve them. She’s dead, dying; she would be coming back to camp, but in the back of a cart with countless other Hoshidans, her body just another number added to the count. He tries to distance his mind and thoughts from it; the way Sakura will always be crying, the way a cloud of depression will fall over the camp and how he will feel, broken and departed. It's all too much for him and he's just thankful he wasn't there to see her fall; he knows for sure a cry would've fell from his lips.

Somewhere, there must've been a god taking pity on him; he hears a gasp.

It's a gasp for air, for life, and he thinks that perhaps he's died too; it couldn't be, it can't be.

It was.

He looks up too fast and with such a force that he hears his neck pop, but he doesn't care. His body is filled with adrenaline once more but it's all quickly replaced with the best sensation of relief.

Her eyes are squeezed shut but her mouth is now open as she takes another deep breath; she starts coughing violently, and Sakura starts to try to roll her over onto her stomach. 

He helps when he notices what she's doing, and pretty soon Hana is barely lifting herself with her arms, painfully trying to drag herself away. He tries stopping her by holding back her waist, but she makes a noise of protest.

"Hana, don't move-"

He's cut off by her retching and he quickly goes to hold back her hair. Sakura moves next to her, pushing the strays away from her face and lightly rubbing her hand on her back. Her arms give out but he catches her face before she can fall into her own mess.

Sakura lets out a short laugh, it's one of relief, and she quickly wipes away the remaining tears.

"Is she alright?" he asks as he moves her back a ways. She closes her eyes again and rolls onto her side, her back to him, and curls up into herself as her small frame shakes.

"Yes," the princess answers, and her breath is shaky. "She had too much magic in her system; it's a side effect from too much healing at one time."

He nods and looks down again. He lets out his own shaky breath, one he hadn't even known he was holding. He reaches his hand out to move her hair but stops himself, it wasn't right.

The action seems to go unnoticed by Sakura and he breathes another sigh of relief. He's not sure how much more relieved he can be.

Sakura places a hand to Hana's cheek and the girl's expression softens.

"You did it," he tells her and she looks up to give him a weak smile. Her eyes fill up with tears again and he's just not sure what's happening anymore.

"Lady Sakura," he says, reaching out to clasp her shoulder. She's almost knocked over by his hand and he hastily retracts it. "What's wrong?"

She averts her gaze and uses the back of her hand to brush the hair from Hana's eyes.

"I-I thought..." Her voice breaks and she squeezes her eyes shut. "I thought I wouldn't be able to..."

"She's alive," he tells her softly and she sniffles lightly.

She wipes away more tears and nods hastily. She was alive, she had saved her, it was all over now he assumed. She meets his eyes and his heart feels broken at the sadness in them.

"Take her back to camp, Tsubaki."

It takes him a moment to process the words through his mind and he doesn't realize what she's said until she says his name again.

"Tsubaki, where's your mount?"

He feels his face redden.

"I was thrown from it; it's lost somewhere."

Sakura's eyebrows scrunch together. "Can you carry her then?"

He thinks about it then nods; it would be difficult, he might need to take a few breaks, but he would do it. He stands and then offers a hand to the princess. She takes it.

She picks up her staff from the ground and brushes off her dress, though it only seems to dirty it further with wide arcs of blood and soil against the once alabaster cloth.

"Take her straight to the medical tent and don't let her leave. Make sure they take a look at her right away."

"Yes, my lady."

He bends down to scoop her back up and his arms scream at him for mercy. She groans as she's lifted up and he tries not to jostle her too much. It will be a hard trek.

"Put her on your back," the princess says and he gives her a look. He stares at her for a moment, trying to think of how to go about doing it, and then she takes the lead.

"Set down her feet and I'll hold onto her while you get situated."

He's not sure how this petite princess is going to hold up someone her size who is barely conscious, but he obeys. He sets her down as Sakura takes an arm around her neck. When he lets go, she nearly stumbles under the weight.

"I'm fine, turn around," she makes a spinning motion with her finger, like she is stirring tea in the air.

He does as he's told and soon he hears shuffling behind him, then a body leaning against his back. He bends down so it's easier for her to reach.

"Sakura," he hears from behind and it takes him a second to realize it's Hana. Her voice is hoarse and it's barely a whisper. She was very tired, very beaten, and she needed rest.

"Give Tsubaki your arms," she demands and he then hears a noncommittal groan.

Sakura fumbles as she takes the arm from around her neck and places them on the upper part of his back; they're extended as she tells him: "Grab her arms and pull her up."

"Won't that hurt her?"

"It might but just pull and I'll push."

"Maybe we should just get someone to help-"

"Tsubaki."

He stops talking and grabs one arm in each hand. He pulls her forward up on his back and Sakura grunts as she pushes her bottom up. Once she is far enough on him he carefully wraps an arm around her upper leg and holds her lower arms together in front of him. He turns to look at the princess.

She wipes her brow and gives a meek smile. Her eyelashes are stuck together as her tears start to dry.

"It's like a Tsubaki back ride," she says and he can't help but roll his eyes.  "Please don't run with her again, it might open her wounds."

"Her wounds aren't completely closed?"

She frowns. "I tried the best I could but please, just be careful with her."

"Of course."

He adjusts the way she is sitting on his back and looks at the princess. The tears had stopped but now she looked tired and weary.

"Are you not coming with us?" he asks.

She shakes her head and folds her hands in front of her. She looks out across the battlefield and he follows her gaze, the other healers were a world away now.

"No, I will stay here to finish my job."

"Don't push too hard, Lady Sakura, you just put yourself through a lot," he warns.

She meets his eyes once again. "I'll be fine. I'll stay with Takumi."

He looks her over once more, then nods himself; he takes trust in her words but gives her one final warning.

"Be careful."

She nods again. "And you, yourself."

He bids farewell as he starts to make the long journey back to camp. It wouldn't be as long if he could run but he had been told not to. He exhales and adjusts the girl on his back again.

It's comforting, in some strange way, to have her so close to him, practically on him. Her head lies against his shoulder and her nose is turned in towards his neck, her light breaths tickling it. He wraps the arm around her leg and the hand around her wrists tighter as he takes even steps towards a hill.

He doesn't get very far up the small hill when he feels her moving slightly. He stops so she can make herself comfortable but he's greeted with no air instead.

She seems to panic as her arms are suddenly snatched from his hand and pulled back towards his neck. They wrap tightly around his throat and with such a force that it knocks the wind out of him, almost causing him to lose his grip around her leg.

He uses his now free hand to try and pry her arms off his neck, it's getting harder to breathe, and he grabs a wrist. It doesn't budge and he's a bit frightened that someone who was just on death's doorstep was suddenly so strong.

"Hana," he chokes out, giving her arm a tug. "I can't breathe."

Her death grip immediately loosens and, through his gasp for air, he hears something that sounds like a muffled sob. Her body jerks once then calms again. He waits a moment before he continues on and he feels her hands placed near his collar bone while he wraps his other arm around her other leg; she grips her left wrist with the right and he feels her shiver.

"Tsubaki, take me home."

Her voice is weak, he strains to hear her even this close, and she sounds as if she's spent the last one hundred years without a single sip of water. She sounds dejected and out of place when she speaks and it feels as if she is someone else, not the fierce and fearless warrior he knows. 

"That's where we're going, Hana. But you'll have to spend the night in the medical tent."

He feels her shake her head. "No, take me back to the capital, to the palace. I don't want to be here anymore."

He nearly trips on the hill at her words; was her date with death enough to make her want to go home? He thinks about it, but then again he never really wanted to be there either; he was there out of obligation, to his country, to his liege. He didn't blame her.

"We can't go home until the war's over," he tells her sadly.

"I don't like this war," she mumbles into his neck and he has to agree.

He takes a deep breath. "Well, Kamui made a choice."

"It was a bad choice if it started a war," she croaks out and he feels her fingers lightly twist into the front of his shirt.

"Any choice Kamui made would've ended with war. We already weren't on the best of terms with Nohr."

She mumbles something else that sounds like an "I know" and he adjusts his grip once more as he reaches the peak of the hill.

She is silent until they are almost halfway down the other side of the hill, he thinks she may have fallen asleep, but the shaky breath she takes reveals otherwise.

"Did you think I was going to die?"

The question startles him and he feels his features harden as he keeps his eyes trained on the ground. He doesn't answer her right away and she asks again.

"I know Sakura thought I was going to, I heard her, but did you?"

"You heard her?"

"I heard everything."

"How much is everything?"

"Ever since I threw up."

He nearly lets out a sigh of relief; so she hadn't heard or seen all the embarrassing things he had done. She hasn't heard him pleading for Sakura to save her life, she hasn't heard his shaky and desperate voice.

"I know you fell off your horse again."

He curses under his breath.

"I didn't fall off, I was thrown off," he corrects her and she gives him something that sounds like a weak laugh. 

"You didn't answer my question," she tells him and he's reached the bottom of the hill; the rest of the way would be flat land then a short path through the forest. He hears a tinkling noise and a thud and looks down. Her broken shoe had fallen off.

He contemplates how to go about bending down to pick it up when she says: "Just leave it."

He's silent for a moment as he stares at the fallen sandal, but continues on as she waits patiently.

"I think I did," he admits and his own chest tightens at the words as she twists her fingers a little further into his shirt. He _knows_ he did.

He feels her nod as she accepts his words, she takes them as fact. "Everything still hurts."

"That's why you have to stay in the medical tent."

"Can't I stay with you? I'm sure you'd take better care of me," she sounds like a lost child, she sounds pitiful.

This time he does stumble a little and he has to stop before he goes further. His heart is suddenly pounding, his blood is rushing, he's sure he has a deep blush. His mind is racing at any implication that lies in her words, but eventually he just comes to the fact that she was practically dead only moments before; she wasn't in her right mind.

"I'm no healer," he tells her and she shifts her head to fall closer near his.

"I don't care. I don't want to go there," she replies. "It's awful."

He shakes his head and the back of his jaw barely brushes against the top of hers. He pushes down the urge to take her in, sneak her into his tent, to care for her by himself. He knows it's not right, not now, not ever.

"I can't, Lady Sakura ordered me to take you straight to the medical tent."

She sighs and her breath is hot on his neck. "Never can say no to her, can you?"

"Neither can you."

He thinks she mumbles another "I know" and he takes it as his queue to move on. He's not sure just how much of her is really all there right now; he knew first hand that healing magic made you feel drunk at times, he could only imagine what the amount she had received had done to her senses.

She starts humming to herself and he can feel the vibrations from her throat through his body. It's comforting and tranquil and he feels his muscles relax somewhat at the sounds. He thinks he knows what song it is, a traditional Hoshidan lullaby, and he finds himself singing the words in his mind as she provides the music. He taps a finger against her leg.

The humming turns into mangled sniffles and soon silent sobs as he feels her body convulsing with despair against him.

He quickly stops at the edge of the forest path. She was not one to cry, he's only ever see her cry once before.

"Kazahana, what's wrong?" He asks, but there is no answer.

Her silent sobs turn into audible cries and he hears her voice try to speak, but the words never come out, she croaks and cracks and her desperate tries all but break with the sound.

"Hana," he tries again, but she only grips him tighter. He brings a hand up to grasp hers but the action causes her to clench them closed.

She shakes and mumbles but he can't make out the words. He gives her arm a reassuring squeeze as he makes the final part of their trip, deciding that if she could not answer, he could not make her. He thinks he understands what she's trying to say through the quiet tears and shaking sobs, and it itches at the back of his mind as he enters the forest.

"I want to go home."

 

* * *

 

 

When he goes to visit her the next day, she is not in the cot he put her in before.

He panics for a second, thinking that maybe she had already left or that she had snuck out, but he spies her pink shirt near the back of the tent far away from everyone else. Her back is to the entrance and she faces the tent wall, maybe she's asleep, but he proceeds forward towards her, stopping at the edge.

He pulls up a chair and quietly sits down; she turns her head to look over her shoulder at the unexpected company and snorts.

"Oh, it's _you_."

He frowns. Who else would it be?

"I see you're feeling fine."

"Why are you here?" She asks, putting her head back down on the cot. Her words hurt him; why was she acting so cold?

"Just came to see how you were doing."

"Awful," she tells the tent wall. He gives her an exasperated sigh, he wants to her to look at him.

"Kazahana."

She doesn't say anything. He notices that a bandage sticks out from beneath her hair and that she's wearing jinbei, it's a more pleasant sight than the bloodied shirt yesterday; someone else had already been by to see her.

He leans back in the chair and kicks his feet up onto the side of her cot, his foot touching her leg. Her head quickly snaps back around at the contact.

"Excuse you," she says, and when he pushes them further towards her, she sits up ramrod straight.

He gets a good look at her now and he's startled by the sight. Her split lip was now scabbing and her nose is bruised with a small bandage over it; the gauze that stuck out of her hair now revealed to be wrapped all the way around her forehead and, try as they might, the healers in the tent could not scrub away all the blood and dirt from her face. She's in such a sorry state that when her fierce eyes meet his, she quickly turns her head away, refusing to look at him.

"Why are you all the way over here? This isn't where you were yesterday," he asks and she sticks out her bottom lip in a pout.

"I asked them to move me," she tells him as she starts to study the green canvas of the tent walls very intently.

"Why?"

She doesn't answer, but crosses her arms instead.

"Hana."

Her hard features soften a bit as she turns her head down towards her lap. She seems to take a moment to steady her breathing before she answers.

"I hate it here; it smells awful and they won't let me leave."

He knows that it's not the truth and he takes his legs off the cot and sits forward, looking at her with an intense notion. She starts to chew on her bottom lip as she lets her hands fall into her lap; he's confused and not sure if he's even in the right world anymore, he's never seen so her so conflicted and unsure in his entire time knowing her than in these past few days. She normally kept her emotions in check, keeping up the hard yet friendly front of a young warrior ready to fight.

"You can't leave yet."

She groans and flops back onto her side, away from him. He sees her lightly trace over the threads in the canvas of the cot, the rise and fall of her shoulder as she breathes, and he wants to leave, take her with him; he'll do anything as long as he doesn't have to see her like this.

"Hana, tell me the real reason," he says; he scoots his seat closer.

"That _is_ the real reason."

"I know when you're lying."

"No you don't."

"I promise you, I do."

She's quiet again; quiet enough that he can hear the breaths and shuffling of the other patients and healers in the room, and he sits back to nudge her with his foot again.

She whirls around to stare him down and he feels his heart skip a beat.

"Tell me."

She's biting her lip again, and her cheeks flush a bit under his intense stare. She mumbles something and he asks her to say it again.

"It's embarrassing," she says louder and she brings her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms tightly around them. She turns her head away again, and rests it on her knees as her long hair cascades down them, creating a curtain between him and her. "It's embarrassing."

He realizes now why she's been acting the way she has and he's conflicted; he's worried about what that means for her. "Why is it embarrassing?"

"Because!" she almost shouts, turning her head towards him, before remembering the other people with them in the tent. She lowers her voice. " _Everyone_ knows. Everyone knows what happened and I'm embarrassed."

He takes a deep breath; he understood. It could be embarrassing, it was the first time he ever came in, but it was nothing to be ashamed about. He knows it has more to do than simply being embarrassed; no, for her, it was about her honor and reputation.

"You don't have to be embarrassed, everyone's had to stay in here before," he tells her, and she lifts her head up to look at him. Her eyes are sad and she chews on her lip even harder. He knows what she's thinking about.

"I almost _died_ ," she says and her voice comes out quiet and cold.

His breath hitches as she says it, he feels the color leave his face, and he feels like crying out, like grabbing her and embracing her; he wants to comfort her and protect her, never to be touched by the cruel world again. Instead he just sits quietly and he lets his eyes go out of focus as he awaits her own sentence.

"I proved them all right," she says miserably and he snaps his eyes up to hers.

"What have you proven?"

"That girls shouldn't be warriors. We're too fragile and weak." She says it with much chagrin and disdain and sadness, and soon she starts overflowing with all these emotions. She lets all her troubles out, how she's disappointed in herself, how her father must be disappointed, how everyone must think she's some small child that just gets in the way. They all think she's a burden and a failure of a retainer and how she'd hate to be anything less than the best for Sakura. She even starts to slip into the old Hoshidan language that usually only high royalty or elderly people used (he barely understands her when she does) and he listens intently.

He feels his heart breaking with every word that comes tumbling out of her mouth, and pretty soon he finds that he has moved from his chair to sit on the edge of her cot.

"I know you don't believe that," he tells her.

She looks up. "What?"

"I know you don't believe that you proved anyone right. If anything you've proven them wrong."

"How so?"

"You fought to live; you get to see another day because you're strong." He steadies his worried mind as he adds: "You gave your life willingly for Hoshido, yet you live to tell the tale."

She shakes her head and averts her eyes. She lets out a shaking breath and he sees her lip tremble.

"I wish I would've just died, it would've been more honorable that way."

He knows what she's saying without really saying it, what she's implying in her soft spoken words, and he feels his stomach drop. Honor was a big thing for her and to have almost died in battle like she did... That's what sets him off.

He's getting used to the fact that his body likes to move before his mind can tell him no. He can't stop himself when he seizes her chin between his thumb and fingers and he can't stop himself when he turns her head to force her to look at him. Brown eyes meet his own as they widen at his contact; he hears her catch her breath and she's shocked into silence.

"Don't you _ever_ say that again," he demands, and he is surprised at how low his voice drops.

She stares into his eyes and he can tell she's having a hard time breathing, though she's trying hard to steady it with him acting like this. Was he scaring her, or was she frightened of her own self-proclaimed fate?

"You're the most headstrong, bravest, fiercest warrior I know," he confesses, and he can't tear his eyes from hers as he speaks. "You don't have to prove anything to them, you _know_ you don't, so stop acting liking this."

Her eyebrows furrow together and she seems to take a big breath. He can't help but look down at her lips (he can't help it, he can't help it) and he notices that her chewing has caused the scab to split back open. Blood starts to pool on her bottom lip and he gently takes his thumb and wipes it across; the contact sends shivers up _his_ spine while a light blush paints her face. He doesn't think he'll ever be able to get this moment out of his mind, he's practically flying; the way her lip feels beneath his thumb, the way it follows it as he swipes away, the way her eyes become half lidded as she unconsciously takes a glance down at his right as he impulsively licks them. He feels as if his mind is swimming through a thick haze; he's aching to reach that high he so desperately wants, but it never comes.

"Stop chewing on your lip," he says softly and he tries, so hard, to move away and retract his hand and avert his eyes, but he's frozen in his spot; he's enchanted by this broken beauty and every imperfect thing about her.

She lets out a weak hum of acknowledgement but she doesn't really seem to be paying attention; she's fixated on his lips. He feels it, he literally _feels_ himself tilt his head ever so slightly, he feels his lips betray him as they barely part, and move towards hers, only an inch, before he remembers where he is and just who exactly this is.

This is his partner, his fellow retainer; he couldn't do this with her, _to_ her, no matter how much he wants to. It wasn't right. Not now, not ever.

He finally regains control once again, and leans back from her, dropping his hand from her face. He stands up quickly, and takes a step back from the cot so fast that his forgotten chair is pushed back until it hits the empty cot behind him. She's confused when she notices that he's moved away, and she slowly looks up through her lashes with a face that makes him weak in the knees.

"I need to go," he says hastily; he tries to calm his speeding heart.

"Tsubaki," she calls almost sleepily, and he thinks he's going to drown in his own thoughts at the way she says his name now.

He's walking away, wiping her blood from his thumb onto his trousers, and his head is reeling, it's spinning. He can't think straight and he's halfway through the tent to the exit when she calls his name again to which he quickly turns around, walking backwards for a few steps, and flicks his hand in a wave.

"I'll see you when you get out," he tells her, and he hurries out of the tent.

He looks back for just a second as he lifts the flap to leave, just in time to see her lick her lips then bring nimble fingers up to touch them. He smirks to himself, like he's done something naughty, but the smile quickly falls from his lips and is replaced with a frown as he rounds the corner outside of the tent and squats down.

He starts breathing heavy, he feels feint and sick and he knows (he knows, he knows, _he knows_ ) just exactly what he's feeling. And he hates it, he hates her, he hates himself, he hates the gods up above and the world down below his feet because he knows what this feeling is now and he knows that he can't stop it and he knows that this is the end of him.

He covers his mouth, closes his eyes, and whispers into his trembling hands while the words are screamed inside his mind.

I love you.

I love you.

_I love you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im reading my own fic and at time i'm like "yeah this is great fuck me up" and other times i'm like "wtf is this get this outta my face"
> 
> i know pacing is a little weird but please forgive me im tired
> 
> Thanks for reading ;)


	3. the world ends (but i'm with you)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She looks away and lets out a dry laugh. "Maybe if we train enough, it won't have to come down to that."
> 
> Wishful thinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took the time to write, read, reread, reread again, fix, reread and now I'm finally posting what will most likely be the last chapter of this fun story.  
> A few things to note:  
> 1\. i dont think people would just throw a party for funsies in the middle of a war but we did it anyways  
> 2\. love is weird, how does it work? i have no idea i'm so sorry  
> 3\. i love kazahana, very much, more than tsubaki

They're on patrol when they finally find his Pegasus.

It's temperate in the camp, a nice breeze blows throughout it as they walk the perimeter, and he's thankful that the shift is almost over. The sun is setting as it paints everything in orange and rosy hues; soon they would be replaced by Hinata and Oboro and then they would have to deal with the first hour after dark shift.

It's not that patrolling the border was a bad job, it just happened to be boring on most occasions.

He looks out of the corner of his eye to spy his patrol partner next to him. Her face is set hard like stone as her hands are placed firmly behind her back, she seems deep in thought and quiet and he silently worries; she's been like that ever since she was released from the medical tent. 

He soaks in her appearance, much like how the sinking sun soaks in the horizon. She was cleaned up now, no blood to be seen and neatly brushed hair, but she still had the scabs and scars to prove what had happened. There's a small one across the bridge of her nose and on her lip (or rather, he knows there is one there but he refuses to look) and the gash on her forehead no longer required bandages around it but in its place was a line of fresh skin a shade lighter than the rest of her. "Another one for the collection," she had told him the day before and he just sighed.

He still didn't know what happened to the abdomen wound he had found her with; he had to assume that she was still wearing bandages around that one.

She's wearing her favorite white hakama, though they're colored the finest coral in the setting sun's light. She has on a new pair of shoes, ones that aren't broken, and a new sword at her side, one that is not bloodied. She is not as heavily armed as she would be if they were going to battle, it was just patrol after all, but he doesn't mind; he likes the way she looks.

She just happens to look over and catch his watchful eye, to which he quickly averts it to undo the wrong. He feels fragile, like the wind could knock him over if he let it, and he just might at this point.

He's got it bad, he knows he does, and he thinks that this sickness is a deadly one. Or at least, it could be if he was not careful.

He's had dreams and nightmares and all of them are of _her_. She consumes every thought that is in his fragile mind and she has a tight grip around his fragile heart. He says he hates her, over and over again in his mind, but the words don't mean anything because he knows he does truly not.

He's in love.

He's in love with everything about her; he's in love _with_ her.

He's hated himself ever since he's figured it out. It wasn't right. None of it was.

He's pulled from his lamentation when he realizes that she is no longer beside him. He stops walking and turns around to see her stopped by the tree line near some bushes, her hands on her knees and her back hunched over.

Naturally, he assumes the worst; he thinks that perhaps she has fallen ill and was taking refuge from it in the bushes but as he draws nearer she beckons him towards her.

"Tsubaki, look," she whispers and he takes a step closer.

He stops when he hears loud laughing from behind and glances over his shoulder to see that it is Hinata and Oboro, a ways away, getting ready to start their patrol.

"Is our shift already over?" She asks as she notices the two ahead and he shrugs.

She grins and then makes his heart jump to his throat as she grabs his hand and leads him into the trees.

"Come on," she says, and she gives his nervous hand a squeeze and a pull. It's warm compared to his, the transferring heat sends a shiver down his spine.

"Hana, where are we going?" He tries to ask, but it is much harder than it seems when someone so beautiful has their small hand around his.

"I found something you might like," she says and he can tell there's a smile on her face.

He watches the back of her beautifully brunette head and he's enamored by the way her waves bounce as she walks. He looks down at their hands and he feels like he is floating; hers fits in his so nicely, it's a perfect match, and he thinks that the gods must've made it so.

He frowns. _It wasn't right_.

She leads him into a small clearing not far from the border of the camp and the forest they were now in. She stops and lets go of his hand, much to his disappointment, and she looks around like a lost child, but that doesn't make the smile leave her face.

"It was here," she tells him. She looks around for a moment, her head moving in every direction, but eventually just settles on him.

"What?"

"It was here, I swear," she repeats and she steps closer to him, seemingly forgetting what she was looking for.

She looks him straight in the eyes; her brown ones were something to be feared.

He looks down at her, trying to steady his breath. What was she doing, dragging him away when they were not really off duty, chasing ghosts in the forest? Her face becomes serious and he feels vulnerable under her stare.

"I think you're imagining things," he tells her and she rolls her eyes.

"I saw it here," she says, but her voice seems to grow softer as she steps closer once again, the personal space almost gone.

"What did you see?"

"Can't say until we find it."

"Better find it fast or we'll get in trouble for not reporting in on time."

"Aww, is Mister Perfect scared of getting in trouble?" She teases and she places a hand on his shoulder. Her touch feels electric and he gets goosebumps along his arms. He's not sure what she's doing anymore; it frightens him a little.

She stands on her tiptoes and tries to be eye level with him, though it just seems to make her around nose level.

"Do you really wanna know?"

Instead of actually saying the word "yes", he is only able to barely nod his head and let out a small breath. She gives him a wicked smile then motions for him to come closer, to lend her his ear. The action makes her look like a school girl, giddy to tell a secret.

When he turns his head and she cups her hand around the space between her mouth and his ear, he holds back a shiver. His mind is racing at all the possibilities about what was going to tumble out from those sweet lips of hers.

He scolds himself for thinking of her lips.

She lets out a small giggle and takes a big breath of air, like all of the world's secrets are about to be told, then-

-then she quickly moves her other hand from his shoulder to the clip keeping his hair up, giving it a tug so it all comes down. He looks at her, tries to grab her wrist so she can't get away, but she's too fast for him. She lets out a laugh as she runs for the other side of the clearing.

His hair falls around his face and he can see the red strands out of the corners of his eyes. She stands in front of him, mockingly waving the pin; she was teasing him, in more ways than one. It was as if she was trying to say "come and get me".

And he couldn't refuse such a request.

He chases after her and she's laughing even harder as she takes off running again, the sound brings him such joy. She fakes him out and runs wherever he is not, smiling the whole time, and he catches himself with his own small grin, enjoying their game of tag. They're circling each other in the clearing much like they do when they spar and the devilish grin she has on now isn't much different from the one she has on then.

"Give it, Hana," he demands and she sticks her tongue out.

"What do you say?"

" _Now._ "

She starts to run again but he is faster this time, snaking one arm around her waist from behind as she tries to run by. Her weight causes him to have to spin her towards the opposite direction using both arms and he smiles, he smiles at the sound of her squealing with delight. She clutches the pin to her chest as he uses one arm to reach for it.

He tries grasping for it but his hand grabs hers instead, though he doesn't really mind. She wiggles beneath him as she tries to free herself, but it is all in vain.

He pokes his head over her shoulder so he can see her face and his heart is beating so loud and so fast that he is sure she can hear it. Their faces are close, too close for comfort, and he is surprised at the self-control he seems to have over his actions in that moment. She has the biggest and best smile on her face, he's never seen her like this and he can't believe he hasn't.

"Hey!"

They both turn their heads quickly at the call from the direction of camp. Through the trees, they can see Hinata and Oboro standing at the edge of the forest, both with mischievous looks on their faces.

"What are you two doing?" Hinata asks with a raised brow.

"We didn't see you on your way to report in," Oboro says, and she leans against her spear with an evil grin.

"We wouldn't want to have to tell Lady Sakura that we found you two _messing around_."

He then realizes the position they are in and how bad it looks for them. He's clutching to her waist with one arm and her hand near her chest with the other, his hair is loose and messy and they are breathing hard from the short chase. They were off the beaten path and in the forest doing gods know what and it just looked completely inappropriate. He quickly lets her go and takes a few steps away.

She crosses her arms and gives the other two retainers pointed looks.

"You're going to snitch on us?" She asks them, but she looks at Oboro when she says it. "We haven't done anything wrong."

"Oh really," Hinata answers instead, placing his hands on his hips. "What were you doing then?"

"Why do you care? We're off duty, and you just started," she replies. "I would hate to have to tell Lord Takumi that you two aren't patrolling like you're supposed to."

They stiffen and blanch at that; he sees Oboro start to white knuckle her spear.

"You just might want to hurry up and check in," she tells them, her face hardening. "We're not the ones you need to worry about getting in trouble with."

Hana smiles, a fake one, and waves a hand to them. "Thanks for the warning."

The two are gone just as quickly as they had appeared and while she watches them leave, he takes the clip back from her hands. She gives him a pout as he brushes back his hair with his fingers, then firmly sets it back in its ponytail.

"Aww, I liked you with your hair down," she comments and he has to turn away from her as he feels his face heat up with a blush. He wanted shake her by the shoulders, snap her out of this weirdly playful mood, and ask her what she was doing.

"What was that for?"

"I couldn't resist."

"Why are we out here? We need to leave."

"Wait!"

He watches as she points to the opposite side that leads further into the forest.

"There it is!"

He tries peering into the growing darkness of the shade of the trees, but all he can hear is the rustling of a few bushes, most likely from one of the few natural inhabitants. He moves to speak but she holds up her hand to silence him.

The rustling gets louder and he takes the lance from his back and readies it as he steps closer. He doesn't get very far when he sees the flick of a white tail then the rest of the horse.

"I found your mount!" She exclaims and he rests his weapon.

"How did you see him all the way from back there?" He asks.

"I've got the eyes of a hawk," she jokes, using one hand to make a circle with her index and thumb, then placing it against her eye. He laughs.

She grins and walks right up to the animal as it steps into the clearing all the way, it's saddle and bridle still on. He watches her step up and pet it, running her fingers over its neck and long face; it's surprising to say the least. He steps up besides her and rubs its neck, then gives it a firm pat on the back.

She looks up at him and smiles sweetly, and he feels his heart soar at the sight. She is beautiful, extremely so, even with all her little imperfections and flaws.

"This is what you were looking for?" He asks and she nods eagerly.

"I saw it and I just knew it was yours," she says as she turns her attention back to the animal. "I just hope you don't fall off it again."

He sighs and takes the reins in his hands, playfully shoving past her as he leads the Pegasus away, back towards the border.

"The poor thing's been gone for a couple of days," she says when she catches up to him, breaching the bushes and reentering the camp. "I wonder if he's eaten."

"I'm sure he has," he reassures her. "A Pegasus is a very smart creature."

"I suppose," she agrees as she pets its neck. "He's just so cute, you need to take better care of him."

He raises an eyebrow and stops walking. "Cute? This animal was bred for war. I wouldn't call that cute."

She stops besides the horse and doesn't meet his eyes, her expression sobering. "That's true, isn't it?"

He feels sorry for saying it, for bringing up every bad thing she was concerned about in such few words.

"It's sad," she continues, all of her attention on the Pegasus. "That such a beautiful and majestic animal like this is only bred for us to use in battle."

"I didn't mean to be so cynical."

"You're right though. What else do you use this animal for, if not in battle?"

He doesn't say anything. His grip tightens on the reins.

"Hoshidans don't just have these around as pets; the commoner can't afford one. If your mount were not in battle, what would you use it for?" She asks again.

"I guess the only other time we use them are for special ceremonies," he admits. "Other than that we just keep them in the stables."

She looks at him, finally, and drops her hand to her side. "That's all you do with them when they're not doing something special; all they do is train then they're put back in a stable."

She looks down and tries to make her hands look busy as she takes a step towards him.

"Are we really so different?"

The question is startling, the point of it feeling like a slap to the face. By all meanings of the definition and laws of nature, he and his Pegasus were entirely different species; the point she was making though left him with a cold feeling.

"Why are you bringing this up?"

"It's just a thought."

"Such thoughts plague your mind?"

She doesn't say anything as she looks at the horizon, the sun just barely peeking over it. The sky is a radical gradient of orange to dark blue, and the first stars start to peek through the heavens.

He wishes the heavens would take mercy on him now, as he stares fondly at her with a fog in his mind.

"I think it's time we report in," she finally decides, walking away once again.

He follows, his own thoughts now plagued by her, and keeps his Pegasus close to his side, it's regular breaths a comforting sound.

"I agree," he says and the walk back is spent in silence.

 

* * *

 

 

Birthdays during a war weren't something people regularly celebrated.

Normally the birthday person would receive a few congratulations on surviving this long, friends might get them small gifts, but nonetheless they came and went without much else.

Hers was no different- at first.

The day starts out normal enough; they go about their chores and duty without much fanfare. She gets few "happy birthdays" here and there, but that's as exciting as it gets.

Until nightfall.

An hour after the sun had just set, there is a small campfire going in the center of it all. The fire crackles and burns, filling the camp with that smoldering smoky smell.

He breathes in the night air deeply.

Most of the camp is round this fire, lots of people quietly chattering and talking about their days, about a big battle they had just won the day before. It's a step closer to the end of this war, and it has the camp filled with excitement. He sits next to her, who sits next to Lady Sakura, who sits next to the crown prince himself, and he silently smiles at the familiarity of it all. It's comforting.

She and the cherry blossom princess talk about something the latter had gotten her for the special day. She protests the gift while the princess lightly shoves it into her hands. He watches with amusement at the argument, until Lord Ryouma takes notice.

"Sakura, what are you doing?" He asks and the small girl looks up at him, her hands still over the others.

"Hana won't take this gift I'm trying to give her," she complains to her older brother, and his eyes widen a little with confusion.

"Why are you trying to give her a gift?"

"It's her birthday, and a big one too," She tells him. "She's finally an adult!"

His eyebrows raise and he gives her a smile, leaning over to look at the girl herself. She squirms under the attention, trying not to look at him; she often talked about him and how great he was, he was an inspiration to her.

"Well then Happy Birthday, Hana."

She fidgets and plays with the item in her hands. "Thank you, Lord Ryouma."

"Don't you think we need to celebrate?" He asks and her head shoots up, eyes wide.

"No, that's okay, Lord Ryouma. No one else really gets to celebrate their birthdays."

He doesn't listen to her as he stands up, clearing his throat, and the camp falls silent as they take notice. She looks confused yet mortified.

"We stand as proud Hoshidans today," he starts, his loud voice booming throughout the camp. "With the win we had yesterday, we are this much closer to winning this war."

The camp lets out a loud cheer, clapping and whistles all around. He finds himself amazed, that such few words from the powerful man could warrant such a reaction. He could understand her infatuation.

"But we cannot continue forward without remembering all we have sacrificed, though none of it was in vain."

The camp murmurs in response, remorse of those dead loved ones hanging in the air as thick as the smoke.

"That is why we must celebrate our lives now, while we still have them," the prince continues. "We need to celebrate the living, as well as the dead, and how far we've come."

He stops and looks down to reach a hand out to Hana, her eyes widening and her cheeks growing pink as she gingerly takes it. Sakura giggles when she stands beside him as he addresses the camp once again.

"My sister's retainer is now an adult. She's been with us for so long, as long as I can remember; she's like another younger sister."

She stands ramrod straight as the camp gives her all of the attention. He notices that she's clutching to the sides of her clothes with a tight grip.

"She represents what we're fighting for; our future. She represents the people and the idea of what we're fighting for, everyone who cannot be on the battlefield and everyone who once was."

The camp claps, as if in agreement, and she looks down at him with an expression that says "help me". He gives her a shrug as well as a wicked smile.

"So tonight we celebrate!" The prince shouts, raising a fist into the air. "For everyone who can't and all of us who wish to see a better future."

The camp seems to roar with energy as everyone starts to cheer once again. They begin to move, clearing space around the campfire. Someone's loud voice starts to sing, while someone else starts to play what sounds like a shinobue, and he hears someone bring out hyoshigi. He smiles, though unsure at where all these instruments are coming from, and he is pushed out of the way as people start to dance and sing along with the music.

"Bring out the saké!" He hears someone shout, and there is another loud round of cheering as he sees someone quickly pouring and passing around the drink in small ceramic cups, all formalities and ceremony not needed. He receives his own and downs it all, the smile on his lips widening.

He sees the birthday girl ahead of him, pushed into the center of attention, receiving all the well wishes and happy smiles. He sees her own nervous smile and he makes his way over to her.

Only to be stopped by Princess Hinoka.

"Ah, Tsubaki," she says, giving him a big grin. "Would you care to dance?"

He gives her a small, perfect smile and humbly nods his head. He was not one to deny royalty, especially one who was in charge of his entire class.

"Of course, Lady Hinoka."

He takes her hand and leads her around in the motions of the camp's dance; quick and easy to learn, fun in all aspects of the word.  They prance and spin and just dance and it's so damn exciting.

She laughs, her short red hair twirls as she does and he thinks she is pretty- though she isn't _her_.

The princess seems unlike herself tonight, her normally serious and unsophisticated manners thrown to the wind. Now she was carefree, dancing and singing along with everyone else. She was no longer a princess tonight, no; tonight she was a commoner, a low tier soldier, someone just like them. He admired her for that.

"This is the most fun we've had in ages," she tells him as he leads her into another spin.

They separate to the music, clapping, and then rejoin once again. He holds onto her waist and clasps his other hand onto hers and he all but wonders what it would be like to dance with the birthday girl instead. He feels bad for thinking it, he was in the arms of a princess for heaven’s sake, but all he could think about was her.

"Indeed, it is," he agrees, but he can't help but try to find Hana through the throngs of people as they move around.

"It makes me so happy to see everyone like this," she muses, and finally he spies her.

He spins her back around and the song ends as another begins. "Me too."

He lets her go and tries to see her long brown hair, to see where she is again, before he remembers to bow to the princess. She looks at him with a smirk on her face like she knows something.

"Thank you for the dance, Tsubaki."

"The pleasure was mine, Lady Hinoka," and he bows deeply again.

She claps a hand onto his shoulder while he is still bent, and he stands up, startled by the contact.

"Go find your friend," she says, and at his confused look she adds: "I know that's who you're looking for."

He takes a second to steady his voice before he opens his mouth to speak. "I apologize, I didn't mean to-"

She laughs and flicks her hand. "Go on, I don't need any apologies."

He wonders how she knows, was he truly that obvious? He doesn't have time to dwell on it as she gives him a shove towards the opposite direction with a wave. He nearly stumbles from the force.

He's pushed back into the crowd of people; more alcohol had been brought out while he was dancing, and someone shoves a whole bottle in his hands. He holds onto the thing, unable to read the label without light, and makes his way over to where he saw her last.

He doesn't get very far until he runs into Sakura.

"Oh, Tsubaki," she notes, stopping in front of him. "Are you having fun?"

He wasn't having a bad time, but it wasn't completely fun either. He didn't think it would truly be fun until he found her.

"Yes," he lies anyways, only to see the princess smile deeply.

"You and Hana deserve a break like this sometimes."

"Don't we all?" He questions and she giggles behind a delicate hand.

"Yes, I suppose we do," she agrees, then takes a look down at the bottle in his hands. "Please be careful tonight. Remember the talk we had."

He nods hastily, hiding his hands and the bottle behind his back even though she had already seen it.

"Have you seen Kazahana, Lady Sakura?"

She raises a brow at his question and looks away towards the edge of the party, where the dark rules and the laughter subsides.

"She disappeared a couple of minutes ago; some friends had offered her saké."

He looks through all the people, but is unable to find her once again. He sees people laughing, and raising glasses and cups. People dancing and singing, people whispering in each other's ears. He can't see her though, and it's agonizing. He just wants to be near her, to give his own congratulations.

The princess looks back at him again. "Looking to share that drink with her?"

He turns his attention away this time, hoping that the darkness conceals his red cheeks. It wasn't what he had planned on doing but he certainly wouldn't object to it.

"Got to welcome her into adulthood properly. The same will be for you in a couple of years."

She smiles warmly, and nods her head. "She'll turn up soon enough. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to make Takumi dance with me."

She runs off into the crowd and he sees her tug on the second prince's arm. He protests, digging his heels into the ground and violently shaking his head, but he gives in to his younger sister and lets her twirl him around. Eventually, he has a smile too.

He decides to take a minute to rest from his search and walks over to the tree line, a bit away from the party. He holds up the bottle to the moonlight and squints, finally making out the little characters on the bottle; its soju.

He watches everyone and he feels content. It was amazing, how ready everyone was to party, and how much everyone needed it.

The campfire and the moonlight both cast eerie glows on the camp's people. Orange mixes with white and the shadows on their faces change with the flowing movements.

He looks back down at the bottle, contemplating whether or not to open it and take a drink straight from it.

He doesn't have long to decide when he hears the bushes behind him rustling, and the noise brings on a whole new thought: were there still patrols and guards on duty while the party was going on?

He turns towards the dark forest and takes a step back, readying his bottle if need to be broken. He watches quietly and waits.

Only to see the birthday girl herself come through, raising her hands in a claw like manner and yelling boo!

He drops his arms and crosses them instead; he gives her a flat look.

She pouts and puts down her own arms.

"You'll have to do better than that," he tells her. "You're lucky it was just me."

She steps out from the bushes and steps up to him, giving him a soft look. "I've been looking for you."

He blinks and then turns back to watch the partygoers. "Have you?"

"Yeah, I don't particularly like how you just left me stranded there."

"You had Lady Sakura."

She rolls her eyes. "It's not the same."

They fall silent and listen to the busy noise, until she looks down at his hands.

"What's that?"

He also looks down, forgetting that he has the bottle. 

"Nothing for you," he teases.

"It's my birthday," she complains, taking the bottle from him and inspecting it thoroughly. "Soju?"

"I'd give you some, but you need a glass."

She reaches her hand into her pocket and produces the small tiny glass. "Like this?"

He raises a brow. "That's disgusting, where'd you get that?"

"It's what they poured my saké in. Now may I please have some?"

He takes the bottle back and looks at her as she holds the small glass out with both hands. "Do you know what to do?"

"I've seen other people do it a million times," she says. "Do it."

"So demanding," he replies, but he twists the cap off anyways, shaking the bottle until he sees the little twister inside, and pours the drink into her waiting hands.

"Happy birthday, Hana," he tells her and he watches as she turns away and downs it all in one go. She grimaces as she throws her hand down, and he laughs.

"Drinking's something I won't get used to," she promises, holding out the glass for him to take. "It's not as fun as I'd thought it'd be."

He gives her the bottle and holds the glass in both hands and watches the liquid pour out. He moves his eyes upwards, to look at her, and he feels his stomach flip. She is so pretty in the stealthy glow of the night.

She waits patiently for him to take his shot, and he obliges as he turns away to drink it. It's easy going down his throat and his attention is quickly back on her as he hands the glass back.

She sets the bottle on the ground and places the thing back in her pocket, then she shyly turns away to watch the party once again.

"I know they're not really celebrating my birthday, but it's nice to see everyone like this."

He hums in agreement as he studies her profile. He loves everything about it; the way her eyelashes curl, the way her nose is small and slightly turned up, the way the dips of her lips look.

He wants to kiss those lips.

"This wouldn't have happened if you had just taken Lady Sakura's gift," he tells her, and she smiles fondly.

"If I'd a kept quiet like a good girl, no one would be having this much fun right now," she smirks. "We know that's just not my style."

"You never were one to listen."

She lets out a huff that covers up a laugh, and they fall silent once again. He joins her gaze, looking through the people. The party just seems to be getting started as he sees another barrel of saké get opened. He sees Takumi and Sakura still dancing around, but this time they are joined by Ryouma and Hinoka, and many of their subordinates as well. It's such an incredible sight; people that he's known forever, people who were trained for war and were fearsome on the battlefield, we're now dancing with the biggest smiles on their faces and not caring about whether the moves were done right. He sees that Sakura is standing on Takumi's feet as he leads the way, and that the two older siblings are cracking up at the sight while still trying to dance themselves. It makes him miss his own family.

He's distracted from the fun natured setting as he feels something touch his hand. It's her fingers brushing against his. He doesn't dare look down, he thinks he is imagining it, but soon those fingers intertwine with his, and the heat from her hand tells him that it is real.

His heart starts pounding as he looks to her face, but she doesn't look back, her eyes are trained on the party. He can tell, barely, that her eyes are watery, that she's holding something back.

"I wish my father were here to see me now," she whispers, and he doesn't know how to respond.

She takes a shaky breath. "Do you think he'd be proud of me?"

He feels his own heart break at such sad words. That's all she's ever really wanted, to make her late father proud.

He squeezes her hand, not taking his eyes off her. "Of course, I don't doubt it for a second."

She closes her eyes and turns her head away, wiping at her face with her free hand. She's beautiful, even when she's crying, yet it shows such a weak side of her he'd never think to see.

She nods her head after a moment then looks back up at him, her hand growing hotter against his as his face flushes. She has such soft eyes, such soft expressions right now, she's so vulnerable and she's sharing it with _him_.

He wants to kiss the pain away; lightly planting his lips over every inch of her skin until she doesn't hurt anymore. But he knows he can't. He never will.

He tears his gaze away from her and looks back at the party for the final time.

"Everything will be fine, Kazahana," he assures her, giving her a silent vow that she had never asked for. "I promise that."

He can feel her eyes linger on him, and it takes all of his willpower not to use his free hand to grab her face and smash his lips into hers. He waits.

He hears her hair move across her shirt as a signal that she's also turned her attention back to the party. She squeezes his hand back and the feeling is something on borderline euphoric.

"I believe you."

 

* * *

 

 

He's still awake at this hour of the night even though he shouldn't be.

He's sure that he must be the only one awake (besides the border patrol) and he quietly snuffs out another candle, to keep the darkness alive outside without shutting him in.

There's already three lit on his dresser and now only one on his low table he's working at.

He's not even sure what he's working on anymore, he thinks it's the inventory list, but he knows that he cannot go to bed no matter how tired he is. All of his dreams will be of only her.

He knows there's more to the world than just her, but the thought leaves him with a bitter taste in his mouth. How could he say such things about her when he was completely and utterly engrossed?

He desperately hopes and prays that this is just some minor infatuation, something that he will be over soon, but he doesn't think it will be so easy.

He lets out a yawn as he scribbles down another set of numbers.

He's too busy yawning to hear his tent flap open and the footsteps that follow inside.

He senses her only a second before she speaks, but he is still startled by the noise.

"Tsubaki."

He jumps up from sitting to whirl around and face her. She stands there dumbly, looking tired and weary in the candle light, and it takes him a second to recompose himself.

"Hana," he starts slowly. "What are you doing here?"

She looks around his room and pulls a blanket she had brought with her tighter around her arms.

"I couldn't sleep."

He had figured as much, but it still didn't explain why she had come to him.

"Why not go to Lady Sakura?"

"And wake up a princess?" She laughs, short and dry. "No thank you, she had enough to worry about right now."

"You can't be in here," he tells her, and her face sours. She turns away from him and pouts.

She's busy looking at some of his belongings, touching and running her hand over small items; a hairbrush, a pair of gauntlets, an old book from his mother. He watches her with an uneasy eye, still wondering why she would come to him of all people. He pushes down this feeling of contentment at the thought and looks away.

"I've been having nightmares."

He doesn't say anything, he's not sure what to say, and frankly he's not surprised. He would have them to if he had gone through what she had. Hell, he _did_ have nightmares about what happened. The worst were always the ones where he didn't make it to Sakura in time and she would start gasping for air, violently clawing at him and begging for him to save her, or the ones where she silently just drifted off and fell through his arms, disappearing into the sea of bodies. The ones where she got to regain her honor like she had talked about in the medical tent were always the ones that woke him up with a start though.

He obviously takes too long to answer as he soon sees her walk over to his cot and step up on it. She stands there, shifting her weight on the canvas and balancing herself. She starts half jumping on it, her arms and torso hidden by the faded blue blanket.

"Can I stay here tonight?"

He's startled by the question and quickly turns to face her fully. He feels his heart skip a beat. "What? No, you're not even supposed to be in here."

She frowns and puts her hands on her hips. "Stop being mean and just let me stay."

"Where will you sleep?" He asks, mimicking her stance.

"On the floor," she replies, then, turning her head away, she adds: "Or in the bed."

He blushes and he has to turn away. What was she saying! She had to be messing with him, coming here in the middle of the night just to harass him (he's not sure he really minds though).

"That was a rhetorical question, the answer is still no."

"Please," she begs, clasping her hands together. "I don't want to go back alone."

"No."

She hops off the cot and draws near him. Her blanket drags across the floor.

"Please," she whines, and much to his surprise, he stands his ground; if only for the moment.

"I said no, Hana."

She walks up to him and dramatically throws her arms at his chest, clutching desperately to his shirt and letting out a big huff. He's taken aback by the action, he stumbles a little, and he finds it oddly exciting to have her on him like this.

He berates himself for thinking of her like that.

"Please, please, please," she pleads, her voice growing louder with every new syllable that comes out. "Please!"

He clamps his hand over her mouth, her eyes shoot open. Her skin is soft beneath his palm; her lips touch it so delicately.

"Be quiet," he demands, his heart beating fast. "If someone hears you, we'll really be in trouble."

Carefully, he pulls his hand away, only to reveal a frown beneath it.

"Why are you so worried about me being in here?" She asks, still holding onto his shirt.

"You know we can get in trouble for this. It looks inappropriate."

She groans and rolls her eyes. "No one has to know! Just let me stay."

"Everyone probably knows by now with how loud your being."

"Then what does it matter? I'm already here."

" _Kazahana_ ," he says, and he watches as she averts her eyes at the way he says her name. 

He notices that somehow his hands have reached her shoulders. He watches them wearily, he knows soon they might do something he will regret and he might not be able to stop them. He rubs circles with his thumbs in the fabric of her blanket; he's mesmerized by the contact. He can feel her small shoulders beneath, she seems so fragile but he knows she is quite the opposite.

She looks up at him expectantly and he can't meet her eyes.

"You can't be in here," he repeats softly. He can't take his eyes off the blanket; he's sure it smells like her.

She releases his shirt and covers her face with her hands, burying it all back into his chest. 

"Why are you so concerned?" She asks again, her voice muffled while still sounding quieter and more defeated.

He moves his arms from the awkward position near her shoulders to grab her lower arms, but he doesn't dare push away. He's embarrassed by how unsure he feels yet he is sure she can hear how fast his heart is beating from where she's at.

"People would talk," he tells her and she removes her face from her hands, a disgusted and disheartened look on it.

"I don't care, let them," she says firmly. He can see the dark circles beneath her eyes, telling about all the restless nights she's had. "Is that all you care about? Tarnishing your _perfect_ reputation?"

"I'm worried about ruining yours."

Her eyes widen a little at his words and he sees her let out a small breath. She looks confused now instead of angry but he's not sure if that's better or worse. He didn't want to make her feel conflicted yet here she was giving that to him. They're close, so close, and she's as tempting as they come.

"I don't care," she repeats, and her eyes move down to his lips.

He knows it's wrong even before he does it.

He moves his hands and gently takes her face into them. He can see every little detail on her like this, she's a beautiful landscape, and he feels as if he's about to implode with all the pent up energy he has for her right now. His eyes move down to look at her lips as he unconsciously licks his own.

He tilts his head, oh yes; he'll do it now, the moment he's been dreaming of. She responds by slightly tilting her own and letting her eyelids flutter shut as he moves in closer. Her unsteady breathes are hot against his skin, it gives him tiny tingles, and he knows this is the end of it all. His world was about to come crashing down around him in euphoric bliss.

He leans in, the tips of his fingers covered by her hair. He was really going to do it.

He decides against it at the last minute, thinking maybe it was better to leave things as they were. He pulls away, his lips barely ghosting against hers at the last possible second, but she follows them desperately, hungrily. He takes a step back from her; this couldn't be right.

"Hana, you can't- we can't- you need to-," he fumbles over his words, dragging a hand down his face but stopping to cover his mouth. He barely got the taste of what he wanted and oh, it was not enough. He needed more.

He couldn't have it though.

She looks at him dumbfounded, almost embarrassed, but she quickly recovers with an angry look.

"Oh no you don't," she says, walking towards him, wildly waving a finger. Her blanket falls to the floor. "That's the _second_ time you've done that to me."

He has to swim through all the foggy thoughts to process what she's said. He feels bad, he wants it, he so desperately wants to kiss her, but he knows it's not right; not now, not ever.

He goes to sit on the edge of his cot and he sees that one of the candles on his dresser is almost burnt out. He tries to steady his breathing, placing his arms over his knees and his head on top of those, but he feels feint and giddy.

"I'm sorry," he tells her, and he really means it. He doesn't want it to be like this.

He hears her feet shuffling across the ground and then he sees them, bare, in front of him. He doesn't dare look up; he doesn't want to see whatever face she has for him now. He's disgusted, with her, with himself, with everything else in the world, and he feels weak and vulnerable. No one's ever seen him like this; completely and incredulously imperfect.

"No you're not," she says, and her voice is cold, angry. "You've just been teasing me. I'm some kind of game to you."

His head shoots up as his heart is stabbed with conviction. That wasn't it at all.

"Hana-"

"I feel like you've been leading me on this entire time. I'm not some girl that you can play with."

His mind is screaming at her, confessing his love and shouting out apologies, but he just looks up at her with what is most likely a pitiful face. She stares back at him with an equally angry one.

"I would never think that of you."

"Your actions don't seem to hold the same meaning as your words."

He's not sure if he can fix this; she already knows what almost happened. He meets her eyes and she holds the stare, not backing down. He doesn't say anything and she takes a deep breath.

"Do you not like me?"

It feels like the gods are playing some cruel trick on him, he feels like he's being kicked, over and over.

"That's not it at all."

Her expression seems to falter, though just for a moment.

"Then what is it?"

He pushes back his bangs as he breaks their staring match; it's all too much for him to handle. He sits up a little straighter and stares at everything but her.

"It would complicate things," he admits. He sees her out of the corner of his eye, and it seems her walls start to break. Maybe she understood.

"It doesn't have to," she states, a little less angry, taking a step towards him.

He looks up as she stops in front of him. She's _so beautiful_ in the light of a candle; he aches to have her under his hands, to give in to these carnal desires.

"If it came down to me or Lady Sakura on the battlefield, who would you save?"

She stiffens and he hears her breath hitch at the question. He doesn't know how strong her feelings are, but he knows who he would rather have her choose. He wasn't worth dying for; she had a duty to Lady Sakura, as did he, and he knows he wouldn't be able to live if something happened to her because of feelings for him.

She looks away and lets out a dry laugh. "Maybe if we train enough, it won't have to come down to that."

Wishful thinking.

He shakes his head at the naivety of the statement and sighs. "You deserve someone who you're not at a risk of losing."

She steps forward again, hesitant this time, until she's standing right before him. He tries to ignore the creeping temptation but he can't; he _craves_ her.

"Nobody's invincible; I'm at a risk of losing everyone I know. Even more, they're at a risk of losing me while this war goes on."

He thinks about their conversation on the way back from battle. It was very true, he had almost lost her that day but then again, she wasn't his to lose.

She steps forward once again, until she's standing between his legs and her knees are hitting the side of the cot. He feels something stir inside him, a feeling he's come to know well.

She gingerly, carefully, places her arms across his shoulders, placing one hand at the nape of his neck and the other dangling freely. He feels hot all of a sudden, the room is stifling and the air is stuffy. He can't breathe but he _doesn't_ care.

He can't look at her either; he'll give in if he does.

She uses her free hand to grab the lower part of his ponytail, tugging it downwards so his head looks up. Their eyes are forced to meet and hers search his and he knows (with every single fiber of his being) that he can't hold it back any longer. He lets it happen and closes his eyes as her face moves in close.

She stops right before their lips meet, much like he had, and lets out a shaky breath, the heat from it sends a chill down his spine. Then, it happens.

It's the most amorous and divine feeling in the world when her lips finally meet his; he thinks that this is what it must be like to kiss an angel, some ethereal being. She tastes sweet, like candy and cherries, and he's never felt like this before. It's as if all of his pent up feelings and emotions are being put into this one kiss.

It's short, she pulls away to look at him all too soon; her cheeks are a bright red but she has a dopey smile on her face and he can't help but return the favor.

He can't take it any longer; he's decided to give in to this fatal sickness. He'll let it take him over, he'll let it own him if it gets him more kisses. He's head over heels for this stubborn girl and he just knows that this is what he wants for the rest of his days, no matter how short or long they may be.

He grabs the sides of her face with his hands and pulls her in for another kiss; this one is more hungry and urgent, it's dire that he gets another taste of those lips. She must be surprised as she lets out a small gasp in the short second that their lips part, but it's smothered as he joins her once again.

He stands, his hands never leaving her, and they move across the room (gods know why) until she's lightly pushed against his dresser. She's not sure where to put her hands so she just settles on his chest, clutching his shirt with such careless order that it wrinkles beneath her palms but he doesn't care. He doesn't care about anything anymore; she's all that matters in this moment.

He runs his tongue over the seam of her lips and he's immediately granted access. She lets out a soft moan and the sound sends him into over drive. He's famished for this, this is all he's ever wanted since the day he'd met her and he fell off his horse.

He angles himself so he can try to get even closer to her body, and the kiss deepens, teeth meets lip and tongue meets tongue and he's never felt so alive than in this moment.

She pulls away, breathing hard, but he's already so far gone, tainted by this sickness, that he quickly moves his lips to the curve of her neck and she lets out another moan as she arches her back into him. Her hands fly to his hair, undoing the ponytail that holds it up, and she lightly tugs on his red strands as he makes his way down to her collar bone. His mind is clouded yet it's the clearest it's been in weeks.

She grabs the sides of his face this time and brings it back up to hers, and their lips come crashing together once again. He's breathless, dizzy; she's like the dark ocean yet he wouldn't mind drowning in. He's begging to be pulled beneath her waves. He's feverish as she kisses him; it's a kind of high he could get used to.

His hands have already moved to her waist, feeling her small frame and toying with the hem of her night shirt until one hand slips beneath and it comes into contact with bare skin.

Her hands reaches for his wrist much like how she reaches for a sword. He takes the moment to break away and actually breathe; he's never been so out of breath before but frankly, he doesn't care if he ever breathes again.

"You can stay as long as you like," he's able to get out and she smiles, her eyes still closed and her cheeks still flushed and her lips swollen from the unsaid promises.

She brings his face against hers, their foreheads touching and the heat from her hands keeping his cheeks a flame, and he breathes in her scent; cherry blossoms and dirt, the most heavenly smell.

Maybe it's too soon to say it, but he can't help it; he needs to get it out now, while he's still alive and she's still here beneath his hands.

"I love you," he breathes, his lips lightly touching hers with each word; it's intoxicatingly wonderful as it sends a shiver down his spine.

"I love you," he repeats, and he means it, he's never meant something more in his life.

He kisses her lightly this time, sweet and gentle, as proof of his proclamation. She hums against him in response.

"I love you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it ends. I will definitely be writing more of these two in the future (I love them too much not to). I thought about writing an epilogue chapter for this but idk if that will happen; I'm not sure if I should just leave the story as is.  
>  After reading this fic you might think I'm biased towards Hoshido but the truth is: I've only played Conquest, I haven't been able to pick up Birthright yet, so I really, truly hope that I have not butchered these characters.  
> Thank you for reading and I hope you come back to read more of my stories!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [heartlines](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7003726) by [irisreceptor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisreceptor/pseuds/irisreceptor)




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